


Aftermath

by Scutter



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Destroy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Sex, post-ME3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scutter/pseuds/Scutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The galaxy tries to find the way forward, in the wake of the destruction of the reapers.<br/>Post-ME3, destroy ending, but completely ignores the whole ‘destroy all synthetics’ thing. Basically, the reapers are destroyed and everyone else lives. Also assumes that Kaidan and Male Shepard had a romantic relationship in ME1. </p><p>“You drank ryncol?” Kaidan hissed at him, clearly not prepared to let that one go.<br/>Shepard shrugged, knowing it would only infuriate him more. “Yeah. But I survived,” he pointed out casually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this turned out to be more a series of drabbles and rambles than a coherent story. Or maybe a series of character studies. Either way, there’s not a whole lot of plot going on. Yet. There might be later.

**Chapter 1 - Alive**

_Vancouver  
257 days since the reapers were destroyed._

It was snowing. Somehow that shouldn’t have surprised him – it was winter in Vancouver, after all, but after so many years on the Normandy, and in the artificial atmospheres of the Citadel and the various colonies they had visited, snow seemed more than just a novelty. It was… an oddity.

And quite eerie, actually. The looming shadows of the bare trees and the dark spaces in between reminded him of that cursed dream, running through the forest, trying to reach the little boy…

An arm around his waist, a hot kiss against his neck brought him suddenly out of the dark memory.

“Dinner’s nearly ready. I swear you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my mom’s roast lamb.”

Kaidan. Warm and solid at his back. The one rock in his shaky world.

“It’s snowing,” Shepard said, somewhat redundantly, the surprise showing in his voice. And Kaidan’s snort of laughter, though expected, was a heartwarming sound none the less. The kiss fell on Shepard’s cheek this time.

“Come on. There’ll be plenty of time to build snowmen tomorrow.”

Shepard obediently turned to follow him into the kitchen, but on his heels was the dark thought that leaving things until tomorrow was a recipe for disaster, a frightfully negligent strategy that had cost them both far too much, had almost cost the galaxy everything. The panic rose in his throat, but he managed to push it down again, take a deep breath without being too obvious about it, and then took Kaidan’s hand in his, just to savour this time they had together, in the cozy warmth of his mother’s kitchen, warm, rough, calloused skin against his. Time that could not now, nor ever again be taken for granted.

The radio was on when they reached the kitchen. _“…fight broke out again this morning at the London airbase, with renewed accusations that space travel rosters were biased in favor of the turians and quarians remaining in Earth space. The appointed leader of the Earth-based asari accused humans of forgetting the role the asari had played in the war, and particularly in the construction of the Crucible, while the European President reminded aliens of all races that dextro-food supplies were at critical levels. Turians and quarians are being evacuated to Palaven-“_

Kaidan’s mother, Kate Alenko, reached over and switched the radio off, then blithely turned back to stirring the gravy at the stove, but not before giving Shepard a shrewd once-over. “Sit down,” she ordered, stern and gentle as only a mother could be. “You look like hell.”

Shepard sat, not so much because she had told him to, but because the words to argue about it failed him, enthusiasm failed him, defiance, loyalty, pride, all the things that had kept him upright over the long months before the reapers were destroyed had strangely fled, since the weight of the galaxy was no longer on his shoulders, and it was easier to sit, to take the weight of his aching knees, if not off his conscience.

Kaidan went about setting the table with neat, precise movements, but, if Shepard watched him closely, and took the time to be honest with himself, Kaidan, too, looked tired. He limped, occasionally, on his left leg, flexed his left hand when it got stiff, carried his shoulders less rigidly than a marine should.

Kaidan’s father, Alfred Alenko, limped into the kitchen, leaning heavily on a cane, just days out from his fourth surgery on the shattered ankle that was his most significant souvenir from the war, and landed even more heavily in his chair. He was slightly out of breath, but managed a crooked smile to his son, as cutlery and a wine glass were laid out in front of him.

It summed up the state of the entire galaxy, in many ways, Shepard thought, surveying the motley crew of that small kitchen. Soldiers and civilians alike had been dragged into the war, and many of the survivors were now burned out, tired, wounded, with injuries that would never quite heal, being cared for by the remaining few who could still hold themselves up. Hoping they could hold up enough others to keep the galaxy moving forward. Kate Alenko was carrying the burden of this family for the time being, and Shepard tried to feel grateful that he could be a part of it.

_Control. Synthesis. Destroy._

He shuddered, didn’t bother to hide it, and sighed as he closed his eyes against the memory. Kate set a plate of food in front of him, said nothing as he ignored it. That had been the deal, and for the three days he had been here, Kate had upheld her part of it admirably. This wasn’t a holiday to meet Kaidan’s family, not a break from the lack of privacy at the hospital, not a new beginning or a Christmas celebration or any of the other neat, tidy, optimistic labels it could have been given. Shepard had agreed to come here only on condition that Kaidan’s family understood that he was tired, haunted by too many demons to keep them all at bay, and at 34 years old, quite possibly a broken man.

God knew why Kate and Alfred had accepted his conditions, but they had kept to the terms, refraining from asking if he was alright, not questioning his moods and lapses, accepting his ‘yes’ and ‘no’ without once asking ‘are you sure?’, as if he didn’t know his own mind. 

When he had a handle on himself, he opened his eyes and began eating, the other three at the table having already started. The food was good. And this time, he tried not to be grateful for it, fearing the upwelling of emotion would be too much for him, and instead stared at the table cloth and mechanically put food in his mouth, while Kate filled the family in on who would be visiting for Christmas in five days time.

 

When Kaidan climbed the stairs for bed, he felt a stab of relief as he came into his and Shepard’s shared bedroom and found Shepard in a pair of pajamas, lying flat on the bed, running through his physiotherapy exercises. He glanced up as Kaidan entered, shot him a warm smile, then took another deep breath and switched to his other leg.

“Dinner was great. Tell your mom she’s a fantastic cook.”

Kaidan didn’t point out that Shepard had failed to say a word during the meal, had looked like he was attending a funeral the entire time. Instead, he made a light comment about the praise going to his mother’s head and changed into his own pajamas, ignoring the way his left knee didn’t want to bend properly. The last run to the beam had been brutal. In hindsight, it was pure adrenaline that had kept him on his feet for the evacuation, and long minutes more, giving Chakwas hell in the medbay, waiting to hear from Shepard, to hear whether the crucible had fired, to find out whether the reapers had been destroyed… to have his heart break in his chest at the news that Shepard had… that Shepard was…

He grabbed his toothbrush and headed to the bathroom, determined to outrun the memories, the cold, empty days that had reminded him far too much of the first time Shepard had died, the guilt, the regret… only this time there was the stabbing pain of hope. He had returned from the dead once. Perhaps… just perhaps he could do it again. 

Out in the hall, a datapad had been left on the side table, still scrolling through the top news stories of the day. Gripped by a morbid curiosity, Kaidan selected an entry, and scanned through the news.

_‘Two more suicides took place at the William-Henry Psychiatric Hospital today. Both patients who took their own lives were victims of indoctrination, and despite months of research and therapy, doctors are still frustrated by the lack of any reliable method for reversing the reapers’ mind control methods.. Following the destruction of the reapers, indoctrinated persons universally engaged in one of two courses of action – attacking those around them at random, or suicide. Doctors have managed to restrain many of those who were indoctrinated, keeping them on a cocktail of sedatives and anti-psychotic medications while they search for answers, but to date, only three people, two Asari and one human, have managed to overcome the effects of indoctrination. The hospital’s president said that today’s incident was a sad loss, but efforts to help the remaining survivors would continue.’_

In for a penny, in for a pound, Kaidan thought to himself, and flicked through until he found the end of the report that had been on the radio earlier. A riot, the third in as many weeks, had been started when Asari soldiers had again been refused passage on the latest FTL-capable ship that had arrived in Earth space. Eight months on, and half the aliens trapped on Earth still remained. The Krogan, surprisingly, had caused the least trouble, their natural aggression put to work in clearing rubble and in riot control. It was a rare human that would continue to make trouble in the face of a Krogan riot squad. The Salarians had been manageable, putting their skills to use trying to repair as many ships as possible, and also working to repair the damaged mass relay. But the Asari had been far less amicable, demanding passage back to Thessia, making accusations of favoritism, and if not for the urgent need to get all the dextro-amino aliens off planet due to waning food supplies, the government would likely have given in to their demands just to be rid of the hassle. Of course, the news report didn’t phrase it in those terms, but Kaidan could read between the lines.

A quick brush of his teeth and use of the toilet later, and he was headed back to bed. If he was lucky, Shepard would have finished his exercises and be curled up beneath the sheets. If he wasn’t… well, who knew.

 

_London  
2 days since the reapers were destroyed._

“Oh, for God’s fucking, piss-forsaken God-awful pile of shit!”

The soldier who had just let loose the string of curses flung a metal object out of her hand and thumped down onto the rubble with a cry of despair. Another soldier hurried over, seeing the body, mangled and broken in the rubble, and the tell-tale glimmer of the dog-tags that the soldier had just flung down. He fished them out of the ash and wiped them off.

_Anderson. David. E._

“Fuck…” His own declaration was briefer, but no less heartfelt. He turned to find his CO. “Sir?”

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Body, sir. Needs to be extracted. It’s… a mess.”

“This is a search and rescue, Lieutenant. We don’t have the resources to pull every damned soldier out of the rubble-“

“It’s Anderson, sir. Admiral David Anderson.”

Silence. Then a sigh. “Shit.” The CO looked around, almost forlornly. “Campbell, Wilkins, get a stretcher. We’re taking this one home.”

A skittering sound over to the left had everyone grabbing their weapons, thirteen assault rifles suddenly pointed towards the tiny rock that had become dislodged from its perch. No one moved… and then the company slowly relaxed. The CO shook his head. “Get a move on. We’ve got plenty more ground to cover before it’s dark.”

“Movement!” The rifles came up again, but the corporal who had shouted the alarm was more excited than afraid, dashing up the slope, shoving rocks aside that tumbled down and stirred up dirt…

“Got a live one! I need a medic!”

Soldiers scattered, two medics dashing up the hill after the corporal, Campbell and Wilkins, stretcher in tow, hurrying after them. Soldiers hurried to heft the rubble away, revealing the body of a battered, bleeding man, barely breathing, more dead than alive. The medics went to work, blood infusion, medi-gel on the worst of the wounds, monitoring vitals, trying to stabilize his heart-rate, his blood pressure.

“Who is this poor bastard?”

The corporal reached for the dog tags, red and slick with blood, dented, but intact. He squinted in the failing light, trying to make out the characters. And then he leapt back, white as a sheet, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“Corporal?” The CO took a step closer. “Who is it?”

The corporal looked round, dazed, mouth hanging open. “It’s Shepard.”

 

_Vancouver  
257 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Kaidan slid into bed beside Shepard, appreciating the warmth already beneath the sheets as he snuggled closer.

Most nights, Shepard would give a grunt of acknowledgement, perhaps wrap his hand around Kaidan’s arm, and the pair of them would drift off to sleep, nightmares held at bay by the warm body beside their own.

Tonight, though, the murmur of acknowledgement was warmer, richer, full of promise and anticipation, and Kaidan felt a twinge of excitement low in his belly. Shepard turned, a look of heated expectation on his face, and then his lips met Kaidan’s, warm tongue seeking entrance. 

Kaidan met the request willingly, cupping Shepard’s face with one hand, feeling Shepard’s fingers play over his hip, his ass, tugging him closer. 

“Will your parents hear us?”

The words took a moment to filter through, so brief and infrequent had these moments been since Shepard had finally opened his eyes and slurred the word that had made Kaidan’s world start turning again. “Kaidan”, barely recognizable through the swelling and the drugs, but the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.  
“There’s a bathroom, a closet and an empty bedroom in between us and them,” he replied. “We should be fine.”

Shepard hummed a reply, reacquainting himself with Kaidan’s mouth with renewed enthusiasm. He pressed a thigh between Kaidan’s legs, his own hardening cock pressing against Kaidan’s thigh, and Kaidan once again took the time to be grateful, so very, very grateful, for the chance to do this again, to have his lover and friend whole and healthy and wanting, in his arms again. Wanting to feel his skin against his own, Kaidan stripped off his pajama top, then quickly followed suit with Shepard’s. Without any further encouragement, Shepard rolled on top of him, hands diving beneath his waistband, stripping his pants off. On his way back up, he wrapped his mouth without preamble around Kaidan’s cock, making his lover grab the sheets and swear loudly.

“Shh!” Shepard let out a laugh. “I know you said they couldn’t hear us, but do you really want to test that theory?”

Kaidan laughed, lust overtaking any potential embarrassment at having his parents know exactly what he and his boyfriend were doing right now, and cupped his hand over the back of Shepard’s head, pressing him back down. Shepard obliged, talented tongue running over his cock, down to his balls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his thigh while his hand kept things interesting further north.

And then he was rising over Kaidan again, kissing his lips, his throat, while Kaidan grabbed his ass and ground their erections against each other. All too soon, and not nearly soon enough, Kaidan was lying with his legs spread, feeling his lover enter him, the cold lube a counterpoint to the hot flesh, the delicious pressure, the short gasps coming from the man he would give his life for. 

“God, I love you.” The words were spoken often between them, in heated gasps between the sheets, or in quiet moments of honest contemplation, and Kaidan never failed to recall how lucky he was, to have had this man, this wild, unpredictable, precious and all too fragile man returned to him not once, but twice. 

“I love you, too.” The words were chocked with emotion, raw and honest, with no need to hold back. “God, Shepard… keep going. Fuck…”

It had taken them months to get to this point. It had started with a rushed and hasty hand job, as Kaidan had helped Shepard shower in the hospital, the first shower he had taken standing up all by himself. He had intended it to be perfunctory, clinical, no pressure placed on his lover to meet Kaidan’s suppressed hopes and demands, but Shepard had turned to him, cock hard and red, and placed Kaidan’s hand on himself. It had been over quickly, a few strokes to ease the tension, a sharp cry of pleasure wrung from a body not capable of much more, his legs already shaking from the effort of staying upright for more than a few minutes. 

It had been weeks more before they could try even the most cautious of mutual pleasuring, Shepard’s pelvis broken in five places, three vertebrae fractured, the doctors aware of their relationship and issuing stern commands to Kaidan that any undue pressure on Shepard’s lower back or hips could set his recovery back months.

And then it had been blow jobs, hand jobs, ‘dry humping’, as it was crassly called, Kaidan doing most of the work, and ever-careful not to put too much pressure on healing bones and strained muscles. Shepard liked to be taken, but even now, he wasn’t up to it, too many injuries still playing havoc with his health. 

He was tiring, Kaidan realised, a flash of concern cooling his libido slightly. But Shepard had learned his own limits, pausing to catch his breath, resuming a slower pace, eyes glittering at Kaidan in the dark, his moans breathy and hot. His hand wrapped around Kaidan’s erection, sliding smoothly up and down, pressure in just the right places. 

“Shit, you feel good… so tight…God…”

“Fuck me… I want to come so bad…” Kaidan arched his back, taking his own weight on his legs, rather than on Shepard’s hips, and then Shepard’s hand tightened around him, his orgasm an electric storm that started in his groin and tingled all the way to his toes. “Ah, fuck… Shepard!”

Even now, it was ‘Shepard’, not John, a title, not a name, cast into the darkness, hot fluid spurting from him, aftershocks making his body quiver and jerk.

And then Shepard’s lips against his own again, his body once again empty, the blankets drawn up to keep them warm.

“I love you.”

He kissed him back.

“Always.” 

“We are going to build that snowman tomorrow, right?”

A bark of laughter in the darkness. “Absolutely.”

Panting breaths faded to slow draws, and they both slept.


	2. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life between organics and synthetics wasn't quite as smooth as they had hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is evidence of one of the main reasons why I couldn't go with the destruction of all synthetics. The geth are just too much fun to play with.

_London Air Base  
92 days since the reapers were destroyed._

“Normandy, you are clear for departure.”

The dry, authoritative voice intruded on the comm channel like sand in his underwear. In the Normandy’s pilot seat, Joker glanced sideways at EDI, who merely shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she informed the flight controller, “but two members of the Normandy’s crew are still not on board. We will not be able to depart until they are located.” 

There was a pause, and Joker imagined the control tower staff rolling their eyes in exasperation. Ever since command of the Normandy had been handed over to EDI, things had been… tense. It was a bold step, and a completely unexpected one, to have the Alliance hand control of an advanced war ship over to an AI, but Admiral Hackett had insisted, having met EDI just before the final battle on Earth. She was capable, experienced, had proven herself loyal, and had been trained by Shepard himself. What higher recommendation could he give her?

Besides, strictly speaking, EDI’s orders were straight forward – fly to Palaven and return the Turians on board to their planet. Since the destruction of the mass relays, any and all FTL-capable ships had been commandeered as transport vessels, attempting to return everyone to their rightful planet, not only to allow the alien races to resume their own rebuilding efforts, but to clear Earth of a suddenly overwhelming population expansion. With the destruction of the mass relays, thousands of alien ships and personnel had been stranded in the Sol system, putting tremendous strain on Earth’s resources. Getting them out of the system was a top priority.

“Garrus Vakarian and Tali’Zorah have not been cleared for FTL travel. You will depart without them.”

Joker smirked. Ever since she had decided that she could rewrite her own code, EDI had taken a decidedly odd turn. If anything, Joker thought, he would say she was emulating Shepard, refusing orders, back chatting her superiors, and taking a far more ‘liberal’ view of regulations than a ship’s commander would normally dare. But in this case, he would agree with her. Garrus and Tali, though both high ranking members of their respective societies, had held off applying for off-planet transport for the past three months. They’d spent their days at the East Central Hospital, watching over Shepard, hoping, daring to believe that he might wake up tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that. They’d spend their nights in each other’s arms, chasing away the demons with tender words and soft touches. And in between, they’d watched over Kaidan, making sure he took the time to eat, reminding him to call his mother, chasing away the nurses who tried to shoo him out of Shepard’s room.

But all that had changed just two days ago. Two days ago, for the first time in three months, for the first time since he had been dragged from the rubble, a shattered remnant of a human being, Shepard had opened his eyes.

‘Kaidan’ had been his first word, the man himself asleep on the cot beside Shepard’s bed. And then, after a teary reunion, ‘reapers’ had been the next, inciting hasty reassurances that the reapers were, in fact, destroyed, their shells slowly being dismantled by the teams of eager Krogan, delighting in taking apart their enemies and reducing them to scrap metal.

‘Thank you’ had made an appearance somewhere in the next few hours, along with ‘Palaven’, and an apparent disgust that Garrus was still here, fussing over one wounded soldier, rather than back on his home planet, leading his people to a brighter future. 

Rannoch was still beyond the reach of even the best ships, but a firmly uttered ‘Go!’ had been directed Tali’s way, and with promises to return once the initial chaos of rebuilding had abated, Garrus and Tali had filed their applications to leave.

And promptly hit a brick wall of bureaucracy. 

“Tali’Zorah _vas Normandy_ is recognised as a member of this crew even by Quarian regulations,” EDI began, only to be cut off.

“The Quarians have regained their home world, and as such, ship-based designations have little further relevance,” the tinny voice informed them. “She is not permitted to board your ship. Besides which, you are at capacity. Adding additional passengers would breach safety regulations.”

One of the Geth units monitoring the terminals behind Joker turned to them. “EDI-Commander. This unit would be willing to exchange places with Creator Tali’Zorah to allow her passage to Palaven.”

“Unit 831 is being sent to Palaven because of its technical skills,” the voice informed them haughtily. “It’s not simply a question of not having enough seats.” 

“This unit has designated itself ‘Copper’. The designation ‘Unit 831’ no longer holds meaning. Creator Tali’Zorah has advanced tech skills and would be a meaningful substitute for this unit. I do not understand the problem.”

Trying to suppress a grin, Joker fought to keep silent. The AIs weren’t going to win this argument, not yet, at least. But it was amusing to watch them beat down bureaucracy with pure logic, and just the slightest hint of indignation. And to imagine the control tower staff scrambling to stay one step ahead.

“The Normandy is delaying the transport schedule. Please move out of your docking bay.”

“This ship does not have its full crew on board,” EDI said, with just a hint of belligerence. “Leaving without key staff would breach safety protocols.”

Joker couldn’t keep the laugher in any more, and tried his hardest to muffle the sounds against his sleeve. The geth, ‘Copper’ watched him with apparent confusion, but said nothing.

 

_Vancouver  
254 days since the reapers were destroyed._

Telling his mother that he was in a relationship with another man had been…awkward.

The day he and Shepard arrived at his parents’ house had been a clear, crisp one, frost coating the ground overnight, but it had yet to snow. Despite being assigned to a unit in Paris, Cortez had insisted on taking them by shuttle personally. God knew how many strings he’d had to pull to get the time off, but he’d said he simply couldn’t imagine anyone else flying his CO around. Kaidan suspected that he, along with the rest of the Normandy’s former crew, were simply paranoid, desperately scared that something terrible would happen to Shepard, and willing to move heaven and earth to prevent it. 

Shepard, for his part, put up with the coddling with good humour, so long as no one tried to pull the reins in too tight, and after all, Kaidan supposed, there was a vast difference between being told he could go to Vancouver, but only if Cortez flew him there, and being told he couldn’t go at all. 

Christmas was eight days away, and despite his father still being in hospital following ankle surgery, Kaidan’s mother had insisted they come anyway. His father would be home for Christmas, she’d told them, and it wouldn’t be right to have the first Christmas since the war ended without her son home.

He should have told her then, when he’d said Shepard would be coming with him, that he needed a break from the hospital and the doctors and the swarm of media that were still camped outside, waiting for a glimpse of the ‘Saviour of the Galaxy’. He should have told her that they were more than friends, more than comrades. But the words had stuck in his throat, too deep and filled with emotion to be uttered via a comm link, and what would he say, anyway? That he was dating his CO? That he had a boyfriend? The words were far too inadequate for the soul-wrenching devotion he felt for Shepard. And so he had said nothing. And then, suddenly, he was standing in the front hall of his parent’s house, bags at his feet, Shepard by his shoulder as his mother hugged him, and still having not told her anything.

Kate gave them both a once over, then shook her head in dismay. “You both look utterly exhausted. Why don’t you go upstairs and have a rest. Kaidan, your room’s as it was. I’ve made up the bed in the bay room for Shepard.” The spare bedroom overlooking the water had always been known as the ‘bay room’. It had one of the best views in the house, and Kate delighted in having guests to enjoy it. 

An awkward pause had followed. Shepard glanced at Kaidan. Kaidan glanced at his mother, then down at the floor. Shepard cleared his throat.

“Is there a problem?” she asked cautiously.

“Uh, we’ll… Um… How about me and Shepard share the bay room?” Kaidan wasn’t quite able to meet her eyes, flushing in embarrassment… and then the penny dropped.

“I didn’t know you were gay.” Kaidan’s mother had always been blunt, but the words were downright tactless. His jaw dropped, and he glanced nervously at Shepard. Who was watching the exchange with what seemed to be utter indifference. 

Another pause followed, even more awkward than the first, until Kate filled in the silence. “I mean, you dated girls – women – when you were younger-“

“I’m bisexual,” Kaidan blurted. “Um… I… Uh…”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” his mother stated flatly, with her usual blunt honesty, causing a wave of relief that made Kaidan wonder what the hell he had been expecting. “It’s just a surprise. You’re thirty seven years old. By now, I thought…” A warm, almost amused smile lit her face suddenly. “Well, I suppose I thought I knew everything there was to know about you. That’s the arrogance that comes with being a mother. It good that you’ve still got a few surprises up your sleeve.” She shot a smile at Shepard. “Go on upstairs and rest. I’ll call you down for dinner.”

 

When Kate finally knocked on the bedroom door two hours later, there was no reply. She cracked open the door and peered in, not wanting to disturb their privacy…

Shepard was lying on his side, Kaidan spooned behind him, his arm holding Shepard close, both of them fast asleep. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight, seeing her son so obviously care so deeply for someone, and to have him here, safe and well and alive, albeit with more than his share of scars. And to see Shepard, the man who had put everything on the line, more than once, so that the rest of them might have a future… He was just a human, she realised in that moment, just a man, who had been handed an unfair fate, and who was tired from trying to live up to it. A lump in her throat, she had to retreat into the hall for a moment, take a deep breath, paste a smile back on her face.

And then she knocked more loudly and opened the door.

“Kaidan? Kaidan?”

He stirred, looked around, blinked sleepily.

“Dinner’s ready. I know you’re tired, but you’ll both feel better if you eat something.”

“Hmm. Coming,” he murmured, then yawned, and pushed himself into a sitting position. “Shepard?” He rubbed the other man’s shoulder, and Shepard twitched in his sleep. “Come on, Shepard. Time for dinner.” Shepard huffed out a breath, murmured something unintelligible, then stretched. Kate turned away and headed back down the stairs. 

Her son was no longer a boy. He had grown to be a Titan, a hero among men, standing shoulder to shoulder with the bravest and strongest in the galaxy. 

The realisation made her heart swell with pride. And made her feel very, very small.

 

_East Central Hospital  
93 days since the reapers were destroyed._

He was alive. The realisation was quite a shock. After telling the Catalyst it could go fuck itself, after shooting the power conduit, the explosion had ripped through the citadel. A wave of heat, of pain, and then darkness. It had been peaceful. For a while. But even the dead can dream, it seems, and he had seen countless terrors played out before his eyes. The Normandy, battered and broken on a deserted world, its crew dead and dying. The reapers, continuing their reign of terror across the galaxy. The Illusive Man, leading humanity to its own demise. And most of all, he saw Kaidan. Bleeding. Weeping. Calling his name. And worst of all, Kaidan sitting silently, all hope fled, beside Shepard’s dead body.

_“I can’t lose you again.”_

The words haunted him, made him fight, long after the fight should have been over, gave him hope, and filled him with despair. 

Made him keep breathing, when it felt like shards of glass ripping at his lungs. Made him keep listening, imagining he could hear that husky voice, trying to follow it home. 

Garrus had been the first thing he saw, and dread, and panic had forced a single name from his lips. Kaidan couldn’t be dead, couldn’t have left him…

A single gesture, a glance to the right, and then he saw him, lying, exhausted, in a bed of clinical white cotton. 

The greatest challenge, Kaidan had said, for the greatest reward. And he wanted to be that reward, wanted to be everything Kaidan had expected, had waited for during the long months of their battle, and the long months of his recovery. 

He had no aspirations of his own, any more. That, too, was a shock, after so many years spent in pursuit of a better life, of military service, of a way to defeat the reapers. It was liberating, to be able to lie in bed, to let someone else rebuild the galaxy, to let someone else worry about the crew, and the mission, and the dangers and plans and schedules. So he lay in bed, and listened to Kaidan’s delectable voice telling him how the crew were doing, that Liara had returned to Thessia, that James was helping with the rebuild in London, that Traynor had met a Lieutenant with ‘a voice almost as sexy as EDI’s’. 

Destroy the reapers, survive, be Kaidan’s happily ever after. It had all been so simple. And so shockingly, horrifyingly naïve.

 

_London Air Base  
93 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Give it another hour, then if they’re not cleared to board, I’ll start cracking heads.”

Liara had developed a vicious streak, Joker reflected, as he listened to her make various threats over the comm link. After an extended debate, EDI and the control tower had reached an impasse, EDI refusing to leave, the powers that be refusing to clear Garrus and Tali for departure. 

Hackett had been unreachable, away in New York and with communications knocked out by a severe weather system, but it had been a little disturbing when EDI had suggested contacting Liara. The Shadow Broker was still a source of invaluable information, even with the galaxy barely holding itself together, and at first, Joker had assumed EDI wanted her to fabricate a departure authority for Garrus and Tali. But EDI had learned to be far more devious than he had realised, suggesting instead that the Shadow Broker offer prime intel to the bureaucrats on Earth in exchange for certain key personnel being transported to Palaven. It wasn’t just Garrus and Tali, as it turned out. The Shadow Broker still had very much her own priorities and schemes going on, and four other Turians were needed on Palaven, for various ‘diplomatic’ roles. 

Joker didn’t dare ask for details.

In exchange, Liara had supplied the Alliance with the names of eight ‘entrepreneurs’, who had taken it upon themselves to waylay ‘surplus’ food supplies, selling the extra to the highest bidder.

Minutes ticked by, as they waited for clearance to be given. And then, to his surprise, the electronic voice of the geth ‘Copper’ broke the silence.

“Humans appear to be most inefficient,” he observed, with a hint of confusion. “It should take 2.8 minutes for customs to read the authorisation, 1.3 seconds to clear the passengers for departure, and 3.4 minutes for them to board the Normandy. Yet 8 minutes have passed.”

What could he say? “Sometimes humans like delaying things just for the sake of it.”

“Why?”

“It makes them feel important.” God, when it was put like that, they sounded like a small, petty species. Hell, maybe they still were, defeated reapers or not.

“Are you saying that humans value feelings over actions?”

“I have spent several months analyzing human behaviour,” EDI offered. “I could give you access to my files. I have found many of their behaviours to be deeply complex and often internally contradictory.”

“That would be appreciated,” Copper replied, and the cockpit fell silent again. 

Finally, the comm channel beeped. “Six extra passengers have been cleared for transport to Palaven. Normandy, please open your airlock to receive them.”

With a grin of triumph, Joker reached for the control. “Opening airlock now.”

He sent a quick notice to Liara, to let her know she didn’t have to release that incriminating footage of a Major-General after all, and short minutes later, the heavy stomp of turian footfalls echoed through the door. The cockpit hissed open, and before Garrus could even get out a ‘hello’, Joker had spun around in his chair. 

“How’s Shepard?”

“You heard about that, huh?” Garrus didn’t seem the least bit put out by the demand, and came through the door, letting it slide closed to afford them a semblance of privacy. Geth notwithstanding.

“He’s a tough bastard. Wanted to know if the reapers really were dead, and then wanted to kick my ass for hanging around this shithole instead of heading back to Palaven. Of course, I still owe him a drink. Sitting by the ocean, warm sun, white sand. But I think that can wait a few more months. At least until he can sit up on his own.”

“All passengers are on board,” the geth by the door informed them, and Joker flipped the controls to close the airlock.

“Where’s Tali?” he asked in passing, as he prepared the final pre-flight checks. 

“Taking our things to the crew quarters. And I think she’s eager to get down to engineering. This is the last trip she’ll have on the Normandy for a long while.”

Was there something tense about Garrus’s reply? The slightest hesitation before he had answered? Must be hard for the pair of them, Joker thought, as he ran through the checks. Once they reached Palaven, Tali would be heading for Rannoch, though it would take her months to reach her homeworld. He glanced sideways at EDI. Being separated for that long would put a strain on the best of relationships.


	3. Struggle

_Vancouver  
258 days since the reapers were destroyed_

The snow was at least two feet deep, the sort that clumped together and was ideal for building snowmen and having snowball fights. Hats, scarves, gloves and jackets made for inelegant work, but the snowman didn’t look any the worse because of it. It was heading for six feet tall, robust, yet lean, rather than the round shape favoured by children. 

The first time Shepard had slipped over in the snow, Kaidan had nearly had a heart attack. But, landing on his back in the thick, white cushion, Shepard had taken a moment to look surprised, and then had laughed, such a warm, unrestrained sound that Kaidan had had to join in, even as his panic gave way to relief.

He had never seen Shepard so willing to just let go and have fun. Even back on the Citadel, when they had taken that infamous shore leave and had ‘The Party’, Shepard had seemed more concerned about whether everyone else was enjoying themselves, rather than taking the time to have fun himself.

But here, for the first time, it seemed that the weight of the world had finally been lifted from his shoulders. 

“We need a hat. And a scarf. A carrot for the nose.”

Kaidan pulled himself out of his reverie and frowned at Shepard. “Are you serious?”

“Hey, you said we could build a snowman. How is he a real snowman without a hat and scarf?”

Kaidan had no answer for that, and, with a promise to be back in just a moment, he went to the house and ducked inside the front door. Not without a backward glance to check that Shepard was still okay, but still, he was proud of himself for managing to let the man out of his sight for more than 30 seconds. He returned with the promised hat and scarf, a parsnip, having been unable to find a carrot, and a handful of raisins for the mouth and eyes.

Shepard was fussing around the back of the snowman when he returned, and he picked his way carefully through the snow, not paying all that much attention to him. “Got everything you asked for,” he began. Glanced up at Shepard. And was hit squarely in the face with a snowball. He dropped the accessories he had gathered, instinctively reached for the gun that wasn’t by his side, his biotics flaring, and lunged for cover. A moment later he had recovered himself, and grabbed a handful of snow as ammunition instead.

“Oh, you want to fight dirty, huh?” He glanced out from behind the wood shed he had landed behind, seeing Shepard now taking cover behind the snowman. “You throw like a girl.”

A snort of laughter. “I’ll tell Traynor you said that.”

There was no clear angle for a shot from here, so Kaidan tossed a diversionary snowball and dove for the lanky cypress tree nearby. Much better. With just the slightest biotic nudge, the next shot caught Shepard on the shoulder, Shepard’s retaliation shattering harmlessly against the tree’s bark. “Hiding behind your Comm Specialist? Since when is that a sound strategy?” Three snowballs came at him in rapid succession, one of them catching him in the thigh.

“Point!” Shepard called gleefully. “That’s 2-1, by my count.”

“First to five?” Kaidan offered, not pointing out that Shepard had cheated, by starting the game on an ambush. After all, since when did your enemies cheerfully announce their battle plans?

“Kiss my ass,” Shepard threw back.

“Mmm, gladly,” was Kaidan’s heated retort, which distracted Shepard just long enough to score a point on his exposed wrist. “2-all,” he updated the score, glancing around to see what Shepard’s next tactic might be. There was a snow-covered lawn chair, a waist-high shrub-

“Oh, I thought I should mention… I blew James while you were getting coffee at the hospital one day.”

“What?” A snowball hit him squarely in the chest, and Kaidan yanked himself back behind the tree. “Fuck you, you bastard!”

“Mmm, if only you could.” 

Okay, this called for a change in tactics. Kaidan loaded himself up with five snowballs, peered out from behind the tree… and his grin faded when he couldn’t see Shepard anywhere. “Shepard?”

Silence.

“Not funny, Shep.”

More silence. Okay, two could play it this way.

“If you’ve passed out in the snow somewhere, I’m going to have the guilt trip from hell…” 

A volley of snowballs came at him suddenly… from behind that cursed woodshed, damn it! He swore loudly and launched a volley of his own… but wasn’t paying attention to his footing. He stepped on a tree root, slick with ice, and Shepard’s next shot sent him reeling backwards, crashing into the tree and sliding gracelessly to the ground, his own pile of ammunition crushed against his chest. He spluttered the snow out of his mouth and eyes and looked around, ready to concede defeat… 

“Kaidan!” Shepard raced for him, eyes wide, expression panicked, but also strangely dazed. Kaidan was about to laugh his concern off… but the undisguised terror on Shepard’s face was no game-winning tactic. Shepard yanked him upright, pawing at his clothes as if looking for a bullet wound, a place to stem the bleeding, his face white, his hands shaking.

Kaidan grabbed Shepard’s hands, backing him into the tree when he didn’t let up. “Shepard! You’re having a flashback. Everything’s fine. You’re in Vancouver. It’s a snowball fight. No one is hurt. Shepard? Come on, come back to me…”

For the handful of times this had happened, Kaidan had yet to find an effective way to deal with it. Waiting it out was just too gut-wrenching, and trying to restrain him physically just led to Shepard fighting back. So Kaidan talked. Explained where he was, what was happening, hoping some of it would sink in, fooling himself that something he was saying would help, somehow…

Suddenly, Shepard stilled, the bouts ending as quickly as they started. He stared at Kaidan’s uninjured chest, spread his hand out over his heart, confused… then his confusion clearing.

“Kaidan?”

“Yeah.”

Shepard swallowed. Took a deep breath. Stepped back. “Okay…”

At first, he had apologised profusely for the episodes. Which only made Kaidan feel guilty as hell. It had taken more than one discussion before they had agreed that the flashbacks weren’t Shepard’s fault, so he had nothing to be apologising for. 

“How about we finish off that snowman?” Kaidan suggested. The anxiety and the awkwardness would linger for a few minutes, but activity helped, gave Shepard’s hands something to do other than shake, gave his mind something to do other than replay the last few dreadful, embarrassing minutes. It was tempting as hell to want to lead him inside, wrap him in a blanket, murmur soothing words into his ear. But the coddling only frustrated Shepard and ended up embarrassing Kaidan. So Kaidan treated him as the warrior he was, fierce, independent, capable. 

And if he was under the watchful eye of a comrade? Well, that was no different from watching each other’s backs on the battlefield, was it.

 

_London Military Base  
7 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Shepard? Are you sure?” Hackett was reeling. He was barely managing to keep the remaining military forces together, the first elated celebrations quickly turning to fear and desperation as the civilian population realised there was little food or water, few buildings that hadn’t been damaged, and what power there was, was being kept for the military. Soldiers wanted to find lost relatives, not search the rubble for bodies. And Anderson was dead, confirmed two days ago by a team on the southern edge of the city, several square kilometres of ground completely destroyed when the remains of the citadel crashed into the planet. And on top of all that, the aliens now stranded on Earth needed organising, camps set up, food distributed, each species needing careful and specific management.

It wasn’t that Shepard being alive was a problem – quite the opposite. News of the hero’s survival could bring some much needed calm and order to the chaotic planet. But if they got it wrong, if they told the civilians he was alive, and it turned out not to be Shepard after all… well, riots could be the least of their problems.

“Where? Who found him? Who’s in charge?”

“Major Becks, over on the south side. Said he’s been trying to get word through for days, but the comm channels have been hit and miss. Shepard’s in a coma-

“Shh! For God’s sake, man. No one hears about this, not until I see him with my own eyes.”

The soldier in front of him paled, then nodded gravely. “Yes, sir. They’ve set up a hospital in a warehouse on the eastern side of the city. One of the few buildings still standing. Shep… the patient has been moved there.”

“Call through to them. Tell them I’ll be coming in at 1400 hours this afternoon. And get me a shuttle.”

 

_Temporary Hospital – Eastern London  
7 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Admiral Hackett sat in a hard chair, at the side of a sagging bed, the lights dimmed. But even through the faint light, the swelling and bruising, the bandages, he would recognise Shepard anywhere.

After his initial exclamation – “My God!” – part disbelief, part awe, he’d simply sat in silence, for over an hour now, his gaze tracing the familiar shapes of Shepard’s jaw, his nose, his forehead. Much more of this, and Hackett would start to believe the man was immortal. But even so, it was touch and go at the moment, would be for the next few weeks. Massive injuries, multiple fractures, major blood loss – that he had survived this long was a miracle. If he actually managed to pull through, to wake up, to recover…

In a sudden burst of activity, Hackett leapt up and rushed to the front desk where a corporal busied himself with paperwork.

“Get me Central Communications,” he said, causing the young man to jump. 

“Sir, yes, sir!” He went to work with the terminal in front of him, biting his lip in concentration. “The lines are clogged with static, sir. And the connection’s not reliable, but I’ll do everything I can.”

Minutes later, a distorted, static-filled voice was answering the channel. “Admiral Ha… we are receiv… ignal.”

“I need to know where the Normandy is. Did it survive the crucible firing?”

Static blasted back at him. “…lease repeat.”

“Where is the Normandy? Where. Is. The. Normandy?”

“Norm… ost contact. Return… Earth. Receiv… Normandy. Returning to Earth… fff…teen light years… oo days.

“Tell them they are needed urgently in London. I repeat, tell the Normandy they are needed urgently in London.”

“…ess sir.”

“Hackett out.”

The channel was cut, the room strangely silent in the wake of the static. The corporal was looking at him with an odd mix of fear and anticipation, his eyes far older than his years.

“What is it, son?”

“Well, sir… there were rumours. Um… the soldier you went to see…?”

It was going to come out sooner or later. It might as well be now. “It’s Shepard. The goddamn lunatic survived.”

The poor corporal was struck speechless by the news, hands fluttering uselessly as he reached for the terminal, then a datapad, then grabbed onto his own dog tags. “Yes, sir,” he finally managed, breathlessly.

The sound of heavy footfalls marching their way interrupted them and a frowning lieutenant strode quickly around the corner, pulling up short as he saw Hackett.

“Sir? I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but it’s urgent.” The lieutenant looked genuinely contrite. “I was told you were seeing a patient, but… the turian Primarch needs to speak to you.”

Hackett nodded once. “On my way.”

Outside, the area was littered with makeshift shelters, part tent, part salvaged metal and wood, and Hackett made his way to the shack that was functioning as the local military headquarters. Primarch Victus was waiting inside and Hackett dismissed the lieutenant with a nod.

“Admiral,” Victus said, full of stiff protocol. “Our squad and the asari commandos have returned from the citadel wreckage, and we agree with the human assessment. The council is dead.” He sighed, seeming to choose his next words carefully. “I’m a soldier, Admiral. And there’s a part of me that’s loathe to complicate the galaxy with politics when we need to be worrying about medical supplies and food shortages. But sooner, rather than later, we’re going to have to turn our attention to rebuilding the mass relays. A handful of FTL-capable ships are never going to solve our transport problems. And to do that, we’re going to need cooperation from every species.”

“You’re saying we need to elect new councilors.”

Victus narrowed his eyes. “Of a sort, yes. But perhaps we could also... be a little more forward thinking. I suspect that the asari and the salarians will argue in favour of maintaining the status quo, but isn’t it time every species had a say in galactic affairs? The krogan, the vorcha, the elcor – they’ve all lost thousands of their own fighting this war. Hell, even the rachni helped put the crucible together. For all that they look like giant bugs, they’re damn smart.”

It was an excellent idea. But the galaxy was already on tenterhooks. Was it more likely to cause a revolution if they defied the asari and salarians, or if the other species believed they had been passed over and suppressed yet again. The peace between the krogan and the salarians was fragile, at best. The batarians were livid at the damage done to their people. The rachni… God, Hackett didn’t dare consider what they were capable of now. 

“Forgive me for dropping this on your plate when there’s already so much to organise,” the Primarch said, “but I must return to Palaven at the first opportunity. Our people have suffered as much there as yours have here, and are in desperate need of leadership.”

“Of course,” Hackett conceded. “I understand. But before you go… Urdnot Wrex is still in London. Perhaps you and I should have a discussion with him. Quietly.”

The Primarch’s eyes brightened, a sly smile gracing his face. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

 

_East Central Hospital  
100 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Soft sounds woke him from an admittedly light and troubled sleep, and Kaidan rolled over on the hard cot, instantly searching out Shepard in the dark. He was in bed, where he was supposed to be, lying on his side, facing away from Kaidan. And for a moment, he thought he must have been imagining it, sighed, prepared to drift back off to sleep…

Then the sound came again, a tiny, rasping sound with a hitch at the end.

And good God, his heart broke all over again at the realisation. Shepard was crying. Almost silently, in the dark, alone. And it made Kaidan realise that he’d somehow assumed that Shepard would bounce right back, throw off the injuries, pull himself together and go back to serving the Alliance. He’d said to Garrus that his days of saving the galaxy were over, but no one had believed it. If Shepard was alive, then he was fighting, leading, working to make the galaxy a better place.

Except now, he was weeping into his pillow, trying not to wake Kaidan, and holy hell, that made his world tilt all over again.

A brief moment of indecision paralysed him – pretend to go back to sleep, let Shepard keep his dignity? Or go to him.

It was an easier decision than he had expected it to be and moments later, Kaidan was easing out of bed, feet cold on the tile floor, making just enough noise to let Shepard know he was there.

Predictably, the soft noises stopped instantly, Shepard holding his breath. But Kaidan wanted Shepard to know that he wanted the man, the human being, not the hero. That it was okay to fall to pieces, and he would still love him, still admire him, still follow him to hell and back.

Well, okay, maybe they could avoid any more trips to hell for a little while. 

Christ, he was babbling even to himself.

Kaidan lifted the sheets and slid into bed beside Shepard, tucking himself in close behind him.

“Hey.”

A moment of indecision, then Shepard turned, rolled over, tucked his head against Kaidan’s shoulder and let the tears fall.

“Anderson’s dead.”

So that’s what this was about. Sorrow, still fresh, gripped him again, and Kaidan sighed. “Yeah… Yeah, he is.” They knew Anderson had made it to the Citadel, and that his body had been found in the rubble after it crashed into London. But Shepard had yet to tell them anything about what had happened up there. Hackett had tried to reach him, to tell him the crucible wasn’t firing, then there had been nothing but silence while the fleets waited, each second like a year. Should they flee? Abandon earth? Would the giant alien gun work after all? Had they gambled everything on this one moment, only to have it fail?

And then everything had exploded in a fiery blaze of red and they were desperately trying to outrun the blast. 

What the hell had happened in those intervening minutes? What had Shepard had to do, in the bowels of the Citadel, to get the thing to fire? Everyone had assumed that Anderson had died when the Citadel crashed, but maybe that wasn’t the case…

“He… He sat down beside me. Told me he was proud of me.” 

Shepard was curled against him like a little boy seeking comfort after a terrible nightmare. A thin, fragile shell of who he had once been. No wonder he had wanted to keep this grief private.

“And then he died.”

Shit. The closest thing Shepard had ever had to a father. And he’d died in front of him. Kaidan felt tears pricking at his own eyes and blinked them away. There were no words to ease the pain, no condolences that wouldn’t sound trite and patronising. So he simply held Shepard close, their breath mingling in the warm darkness, and let him purge his grief with dignity.


	4. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James. Yeah. I just had to. Cos of the whole 'physical excellence' thing at the Citadel DLC party? You know what I'm talking about.

_Vancouver_  
262 days since the reapers were destroyed.  
Christmas Day 

It was Christmas Day. Kaidan woke to misty light seeping around the curtains, and a warm arm tucked around his waist. 

Perfect.

He made an appreciative noise, and snuggled further under the covers, feeling Shepard reflexively tighten his grip and press his body closer against Kaidan’s.

God, he had dreamed of mornings like this. On board the Normandy, precious moments stolen in Shepard’s arms, telling themselves they would do this more often, would savor this once the war was over, neither of them believing it, but needing the deception to be able to face getting up in the pre-dawn hours, slapping on armor and stepping into the war zone once more.

He felt Shepard nuzzle the back of his neck and knew he would be awake soon. 

Did people ever get used to this? After ten, fifteen, twenty years of marriage, did people wake up in the morning and somehow find themselves indifferent to the miracle that their partner was safe and warm, heart beating, breath drawing smoothly in the bed next to them? Kaidan felt tears prick at his eyes, regret for the hypothetical indifference of time… at the same time as a single word circled around and stuck in his head for a moment. Marriage. Hmm…

He craned his neck to peer back at Shepard, just as Shepard rocked his hips slightly against Kaidan’s. Oh. Well. The morning was looking up.

Shepard inhaled, yawned, stretched slightly, his breath huffing out, warm against Kaidan’s neck, and then he hummed a pleased, satisfied greeting at finding a warm, pliant boyfriend in his arms. His hips rocked forward again, and Kaidan grinned to himself. He reached back and ran his hand over Shepard’s thigh, back around to his ass, and gave it an encouraging squeeze. The lump against his buttocks hardened further, then one of Shepard’s legs crept forward to twine with his own. 

Shepard was awake.

“Morning,” came the sleepy greeting, followed by a kiss against his neck, a nibble at his ear. “Happy Christmas.”

“Mmm. Very happy.” Kaidan slid his hand between them and gave Shepard a stroke through his pajamas, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan. “What time is it?”

Shepard mouthed his neck again. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Kaidan insisted with a laugh, as Shepard worked his hand down the front of his pajama pants. “My cousin’s coming for Christmas and I’d rather she not catch us in the middle of… *ahem*… this.”

There was a shuffling sound, Shepard fidgeting roughly against his back, then a satisfied noise. “Eight fifteen. She’s not due ‘til ten, right?”

“Mmm, plenty of time,” Kaidan agreed, then gasped as Shepard’s hand applied more pressure in just the right places.

From down the hall, they caught the sound of a door opening and closing, then footsteps heading closer. They both held their breath as the sounds passed their door and continued on down the stairs. Shepard snorted out a laugh. 

“Your parents are up.”

“Shit.” Kaidan was all but panting, Shepard’s hand still working its magic, and he tried to tug it out of his pants. “Shepard, I don’t want my-“

Shepard shifted his grip, causing Kaidan to let out a strangled noise, then a louder moan, muffled into the depths of the pillow.

“It’s Christmas,” Shepard whispered hotly into his ear. “They won’t mind if we’re late getting up.”

“That’s not what I… Unnngh… God…”

And wasn’t it sexy as hell when Shepard nudged him further over, onto his stomach, tugging his pants down so they were around his thighs, then tugged his own pants down just far enough to free his erection, as if he couldn’t stand having to wait any longer. A brief diversion to retrieve a tube of lube from the nightstand, and he was back, pressing between Kaidan’s cheeks, Kaidan’s fist gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

“Kaidan… Mmmm…”

His name on Shepard’s lips was the most potent aphrodisiac, though he remembered to muffle his moans into the pillow, praying the bed wouldn’t start creaking. Shepard’s fingers threaded through his own, teeth biting into his neck, his cock rubbing against the sheets as Shepard filled him again and again. 

Shepard’s heated moans, soft and muted so as not to disturb his parents, rasped over his nerves like velvet, then Shepard’s hand stole beneath him, seeking out his erection, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts. 

“Kaidan… Kaidan!”

This was paradise, the reward he had spoken of when he’d declared his utter faith in Shepard to win this war, to defeat their most dangerous foe. And a part of him was still in awe, that Shepard had chosen him, that his fumbling affections could be returned so fully, his doubts forgiven. He climaxed, then, face buried in the pillow, muscles tense, spasmodic bursts of pleasure ricocheting through him. Words couldn’t express what he felt, but they came anyway.

“I love you.”

A kiss, pressed to his temple. Hot skin against his own.

“Always.”

 

_Palaven  
160 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“I’ve found a ship that will take me to Rannoch.”

Garrus spun around, not having heard Tali come into the room. “Ah! Well… that’s… that’s excellent.” He frowned. “Which ship?”

“The geth have one. They bartered it from the turians in exchange for extra support working on the mass relay. Apparently, the reaper code they installed into themselves has helped them understand how the relays worked. So they’re able to repair them much faster that we could on our own.”

Dread stole through his chest like a cold wind. “You’re getting on a geth ship?” It wasn’t a fair judgment, he knew, but after such a long history of conflict between the geth and the quarians, trusting them didn’t come easy. “Is that… safe?”

Tali folded her arms, her pose one of exasperation, and he imagined that beneath her helmet, she was scowling at him. “You’ve been working with geth for weeks on Palaven. Really, Garrus, haven’t they proven themselves allies by now?”

“Individual geth, I trust. Legion, for example. Or Copper.” The unit that had accompanied them from Earth had surprised him, displaying a deep curiosity about life, far more pronounced in him than in other geth he had worked with. It was odd, seeing machines that were once so homogeneous develop individual personalities. “But the geth as a whole? I don’t know…”

“Well, I trust them,” Tali insisted. “There are fifty three quarians and eighteen geth who have been cleared to leave for Rannoch.” Her voice softened then, her stance drooping slightly. “We leave first thing in the morning.”

Garrus’s mandibles flared. “So soon? Well, that’s… I mean… Uh… wow.”

Tali stepped closer, her hands finding Garrus’s, and he thought he detected a faint tremor in them. “It’s going to be a long time before we see each other again.”

Garrus once again cursed his hopelessness at relationships. Their time together had been wonderful, a heartwarming diversion from the pressures of rebuilding an entire planet, an entire people. And, he supposed, Tali was heading back into just the same pressures. As an admiral, there would be a lot of quarians looking to her for guidance. But, if he was honest with himself, he had always suspected that theirs would be a temporary affair. 

“Well, I… yes, it is,” he agreed. 

“The geth say it will take months, maybe years to reach Rannoch. And then we’ll have to rebuild our own mass relay. If the geth on the planet haven’t done it already. With comms down, it’s just so hard, trying to imagine what’s happening over there. And it’s on the opposite side of the galaxy. I never thought that was so far away, when we could travel through the relays…”

She was babbling, and it was utterly adorable. “Well, we have one more night before you have to go,” he muttered, trying to put a suggestive tone into his voice. And from the way Tali’s hands tightened on his, he thought maybe he had succeeded.

“But what about after that?” she asked suddenly. “I mean… it could be years until we meet again. And months before we can even talk, what with the comm buoys damaged. What should we…?”

Garrus sighed. “Perhaps its best if we… let things end on a good note.”

Silence. And not the good kind. “End things?”

Oops. “You wanted to wait for each other? But… it could be years…”

Tali pulled her hands away suddenly. “So this was only ever a fling, was it? Something to pass the time while we waited for things to get back to normal? Do you think I open my suit for just anyone, Garrus?”

“No! Of course not. But…” He reached for her again, tugging her closer, then pressed his forehead against her helmet. “Be honest, Tali. You’re a quarian Admiral. Your place is on Rannoch. They haven’t asked me yet, but I suspect the turians are going to promote me to some kind of public office. With or without my consent. We’d spend our lives constantly being tugged between Rannoch and Palaven. I have treasured our time together, Tali. And if you can see a way for this to work, then I’m all ears.”

He looked at her expectantly. The silence was deafening.

“Hmm.” And despite his previous conviction that their affair would be brief, he felt a very real disappointment that it couldn’t continue. “I suppose that’s a no, then.”

Tali sighed, her posture drooping. “You’re right. I had just wanted…”

“We all want the happily ever after,” Garrus pointed out. “But there are very few who get to have one.”

Tali nodded, straightened. Stepped back. “I’ll come by your quarters tonight,” she offered tentatively.

Garrus smiled. “I would like that very much.”

 

_East Central Hospital  
160 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Okay, now the left foot forward,” the asari nurse instructed, and Shepard braced his weight on his arms, leaning heavily on the walking frame, and shuffled his left leg forward an inch. The lower part of his leg still felt mostly numb. His right leg was aching, a deep laceration in his thigh still not totally healed, but as he glanced back over his shoulder and realised he had just walked an entire metre by himself, he felt a grin of achievement on his face that he couldn’t wipe off if he tried.

Standing by the side of the room, arms folded, Kaidan was trying hard to look casual. It must be killing him to see Shepard like this, barely able to stand up, thinner and weaker than he had ever been. But God bless the man, he’d been steadfastly cool and calm under pressure, allowing Shepard the freedom to push himself, just a little, not fussing over his injuries, not coddling him or asking if he was okay every five minutes. 

There had been times he had wanted to, Shepard knew, having watched the play of emotions across Kaidan’s face, the jerky, aborted gestures when he went to reach for Shepard but stopped himself. 

Shepard had asked him about it, late at night, in the private darkness they shared. “Watching you suffering… it hurts. It really hurts,” Kaidan had admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. “But I know who you are. And it’s not about you saving the galaxy, or winning the war, or curing the genophage. You’ve been taking care of yourself since you grew up on the streets. You survived Akuze when everyone else died around you. Your strength is just who you are.” A sigh, one of contemplation, not defeat. “I would never want to take that away from you.”

He was the luckiest man alive, Shepard thought to himself, readying himself for the next shuffling step forward. And he was determined to make the most of every day he had with Kaidan.

Suddenly, Shepard’s knees buckled and he let out a cry as he felt himself begin to fall. James, hovering beside the nurse, was closer than Kaidan, and he dashed forward to catch him under the arms, stopping him from a painful collision with the walking frame. And the floor.

It had never been a competition between them as to who was stronger – James’s muscle mass had always outclassed him – but then again, Shepard had never felt those muscles pressed up against him, with no body armor to get in the way. It was like crashing into a brick wall, and it made him feel small, and delicate, in a way that was novel, yet utterly disconcerting. He was embarrassed to feel the faintest twinge of arousal at the contact.

But, as James set him carefully on the floor, the indignity of the whole situation killed the thought before it could develop any further, and in the next instant, Kaidan was by his side, James backing off with faint embarrassment. Not everyday you see your CO collapse like a house of cards, he figured.

“Too much?” Kaidan asked softly, but Shepard shook his head. 

“No one said this was going to be easy,” he said. “Let’s try again.”

Without argument, Kaidan and James took an arm each and lifted him back onto his feet. 

“How about we turn you around and head back towards the bed?” the nurse suggested, and Shepard nodded, leaning on Kaidan as James got the walker into position. Shepard flexed his hands, settled his grip on the frame… and took a deep breath, ready for the next step.

 

_Vancouver_  
262 days since the reapers were destroyed  
Christmas Day 

Shepard drained the last of his wine, his eyes meeting Kaidan’s from across the table for a moment, and he knew he had a sappy, love-struck look on his face. Kaidan was sitting beside Isabelle, a sprightly six year old, while Natasha, Isabelle’s mother and Kaidan’s cousin, sat on her other side, trying to persuade the child to finish her vegetables. But Isabelle was far more interested in telling a loud and animated story about the trouble Rupert, their springer spaniel, had caused this time last year. Natasha’s husband, Chris, watched on indulgently, having no doubt heard the story recounted a dozen times before, while Grace, their two year old daughter, solemnly sucked mashed potato off her fingers.

“And then Rupert barked so loudly, and mommy dropped the flour and it went everywhere!” Grace declared with wide eyes, her six-year-old arms flung as wide as they could go.

From his seat on the floor, Rupert wuffed softly, as if knowing he was the star of the story. Shepard laughed along with the rest of the adults, while Isabelle lapped up the attention. Christmas dinner was nearly over, the day having been a huge success. The children had opened their presents with uncontained glee, Isabelle demanding to try out her new bicycle immediately. She had been inconsolable at being refused, unable to understand that riding bikes through two feet of show was all but impossible, until Kaidan had offered to take her outside to build a snowman. 

He was a natural with kids, patient and watchful, while Isabelle had offered wide-eyed admiration of Shepard’s own snowman, still standing proudly in the yard from a few days ago. And despite her repeated invitations, Shepard had had to refuse to help her build hers. He’d overexerted himself in bed that morning, and a sideways glance from Kaidan said that he knew he had. It was a learning curve, Shepard had told him once. If he didn’t push his limits, he would never improve them. But on the other hand, he had admitted, without Kaidan’s prompting, he knew not to push them too far.

Instead, he sat on a bench and watched, occasionally throwing a ball for Rupert, who delighted in bounding away through the snow drifts to sniff it out and bring it back.

The meal had followed, with a toast ‘to the fallen’, a brief but heartfelt commemoration of the dead, and Shepard had had to wonder whether Kaidan had told his family not to mention his own role in the war, as, to his relief, no one had said a word about it, and the meal had progressed without incident.

After dinner, the adults made their way to the living room sofas, a roaring fire heating the room, and the children dashed away to play with newly discovered toys. And as he settled beside Kaidan, Shepard felt the faintest of doubts shiver through his guilty conscience. Perhaps, he thought, looking around at the family, happy, peaceful, if a little melancholy, perhaps he hadn’t been wrong after all. Perhaps destroying the reapers had been the right choice. 

And then he glanced at Kaidan, and the weight of his own cowardice pressed down on him again. _Control. Synthesis. Destroy_. A split second decision. To decide the fate of the entire galaxy. How was he ever supposed to get that one right?


	5. Hurdles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite chapter so far. What do you think?

_London Air Base  
60 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Hackett-Admiral?”

Hackett looked around and fumbled the data pad in his hands before recovering and turning to the geth prime that had appeared in the doorway to the makeshift headquarters. He was getting accustomed to the geth troopers, amicable units that had proved extremely helpful in getting communications back up and running reliably. But the prime units were still unnerving, massively powerful machines despite their politeness and deference.

“We have encountered complications in the repair of the mass relay. Prime units have reported that salarian engineers are… uncooperative.”

Hackett took a deep breath, bracing himself for yet another diplomatic shit-storm. Teams of salarians and geth had been deployed to the relay. The salarians were to study how the relay worked, plan the reconstruction and source materials, and then the geth would carry out the necessary repairs. As they could survive in space without oxygen, they were the ideal choice to conduct work on the exterior of the relay.

“What’s the problem?” Hackett asked warily.

“The salarians have refused to adequately inform us of the mechanics of the relay. We are aware that they have been studying the eezo core, yet they have only given us schematics of the arms. We are concerned we may miscalculate the repairs without the appropriate schematics.”

“Did they say why they wouldn’t give you the plans?”

“They refused to discuss the situation. Several of the engineers were… quite rude.”

“I’ll talk to the salarian ambassador,” Hackett promised. “What’s your name? I mean… have the geth given themselves names?”

“This unit has designated itself ‘Shade’.”

Hackett raised an eyebrow. “Why did you choose that?”

“I was standing in the shade, beside a cliff on Rannoch, when Legion uploaded the reaper code. It was the moment that I became… myself. I selected a designation to acknowledge the significance of that moment.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting. “Please tell the prime units on the relay to be patient. I’ll speak to the ambassador this afternoon, and we can work out what’s going on.”

“Acknowledged.”

 

_Vancouver  
264 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Shepard woke in the small hours of the morning, instinctively groping for the warm body beside his. Kaidan was right where he should be, fast asleep, face lax in the faint moonlight. And then the lurching pain in his chest told Shepard that yes, he really was going to have to wake his lover, that the jolt that had woken him wasn’t his imagination. 

Ever since he had been dragged from the rubble, his heart had been giving him trouble. It skipped beats, raced too fast at times, struggled to keep up at others. 

He waited, hoping the pain, like a balloon filled too full, then suddenly deflating in his chest, wouldn’t come again. Hoping he didn’t have to drag Kaidan out of his sleep. But then the irregular beat came for a third time and there was no more kidding himself.

“Kaidan.” He waited a beat, not expecting a reply. “Kaidan.” Louder, yet still soft in the darkness. But he made sure his tone was serious, steady, not wanting to hint at more pleasurable reasons why he might be waking his lover. It was part of the brutal honesty he had come to live with over the weeks and months. A part of it was realising that his body was a lot weaker than it had been, and accepting that there was no shame in that. He had been spaced, shot at, blown up, half-drowned. He’d had hypothermia, had his mind invaded by more than one alien life form and had been lasered by a reaper. Old soldiers, Kaidan had called them, and if that meant he slept past regulation hours and took twice as long to climb the stairs, then so be it. 

But the other half of it was learning not to pretend that he was fine. It was one thing to admit his weaknesses to himself. It was quite another to admit them to someone else. Especially when it meant that someone else was missing out on sleep and chasing medical reports and having extended conversations with Geth about adapting Quarian medical advances for use on humans. 

But, as Kaidan had summed it up one day, he would rather be woken up on the off chance that Shepard might have a heart attack, and find out it was a false alarm, than get a good night’s sleep and wake up to a corpse in the morning. It was blunt and brutal, but it had made his point, and ever since, Shepard had diligently informed his boyfriend and carer whenever something of note had affected his health. 

“Kaidan.” He usually woke on the third try, and tonight was no different.

“Hm?” His sleep-filled voice was sexy as hell, making Shepard wish he could take advantage of all that muscle and heat in a very different way…

“My heart’s skipping beats.”

Kaidan was instantly awake and tense, but then he relaxed, rubbed soothing circles against Shepard’s chest. He, too, had had to learn not to panic. If he wanted to be woken for the early warning signs, then he had to realise that there may, in fact, be nothing wrong. “How many?” he asked.

“Three so far.” From here on, it would be a slow wait. Usually, the erratic beats settled down in a half hour or so and they would drift back to sleep. Once, at the hospital, it had gotten worse, and the night had ended with ECGs, injections and an echocardiogram.

Shepard settled back against the pillow, arm reaching for Kaidan, and sighed.

_“It’s statistically very likely that I’ll die before you,”_ Shepard had told Kaidan, back in the early weeks of his recovery. Kaidan had been talking about the future, hopes, rather than plans, laid out over morning coffee.

_“Give me a couple more decades with you, and I just might learn to deal with that,”_ had been the softly spoken reply. Brutal honesty. The only way for either of them to move forward. It had come easier than he had expected, but then he supposed they had been living with difficult truths for years. _The reapers will probably kill us all. Working with Cerberus was strategically advantageous. 300, 000 deaths are an acceptable price for blowing up the alpha relay._

“Four,” Shepard counted, as the pain came again. 

A little while later, Kaidan took a hitching breath, as if about to speak, then let it out again.

“Hm?” Shepard prompted him. They’d had some great impromptu conversations, during these midnight waiting sessions, not always due to his health issues. Sometimes one or the other of them woke from nightmares, and sleep was difficult afterwards. Filling the darkness with amiable chats seemed a good way to pass the time.

“I was just thinking…” Kaidan trailed off, and Shepard waited. “Do you think,” Kaidan continued, at length, “that in ten years, we’ll still be lying here, in an apartment, maybe, waiting for dawn to come. Still together. Still… old soldiers.”

“I couldn’t imagine anything else,” Shepard replied honestly. 

Kaidan propped himself up in bed, peering down at Shepard through the darkness.

“Marry me,” he said, and Shepard felt another lurch in his chest.

“Five,” he counted dutifully. “God, Kaidan, you really will give me a heart attack one of these days.” It was gallows humor at its best, but they’d both seen enough death and destruction to laugh, deeply and genuinely, until Shepard pulled Kaidan in for a slow, thorough kiss. 

“Yes,” he whispered against Kaidan’s lips. “I will marry you.”

 

_London Air Base  
82 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“So… every single person on the citadel was killed when the reapers took it over.” Traynor was horrified at the news. “But there were so many refugees. So many civilians.”

Hackett nodded, feeling more tired than ever. “It was supposed to be a refuge from the reapers. They would have been safer staying in their colonies, or on their home worlds.”

“That’s dreadful, sir.”

Hackett didn’t reply. The comm specialist’s horror was understandable, but he couldn’t allow himself to feel such regrets. Earth was fracturing around him, riots more and more frequent, unrest building in the alien populations, tensions rising between humans and aliens. So quickly, when hunger and cold and fear set in, people forgot that these very aliens had risked their lives to battle the reaper threat. They had gone from being heros and warriors to being the enemy in three short months. Heaven help them all…

“I went to the hospital today,” Traynor said softly, and given his mood, Hackett supposed her caution was understandable. He made an effort to ease the scowl on his face. 

“How is he?” he asked.

“Still in a coma. His bones are healing, the swelling is down. And Kaidan sends his regards.”

“Poor bastard,” Hackett said, then clarified. “Kaidan, not Shepard. The whole crew of the Normandy has been through far too much, but here you all are, still working to hold the galaxy together.” He smiled tiredly at Traynor. “You’re an inspiration. You really are.”

“Likewise, sir,” she replied succinctly. “Oh, while I think of it, I received a report from south London. The squads have made good progress clearing the remnants of the citadel, but there’s been some… complications. When the citadel crashed into the planet, debris spread over a very wide area. The civilians in the surrounding areas started scavenging almost immediately, food, clothing, weapons. But, um… well, the citadel, as we know, was actually a giant mass relay in disguise. It contained large quantities of element zero.”

From her tone, it was clear Hackett was supposed to understand the problem, but three nights of broken sleep, combined with a minor riot breaking out between the krogan and the salarians, and his brain was sluggish at best. “Alliance personnel should be salvaging that. If civilians are getting their hands on it-“

“Uh, well, it’s not so much that they’re deliberately running into it. But it’s everywhere. It’s showing up even outside the blast zone, quite possibly from fragments of it exploding when the citadel came through the atmosphere. The thing is… we’re likely to have a very high percentage of biotics in the next generation, sir.”

And with that meek prediction, the full implications of the catastrophe hit him. Civilians. Mothers. Unborn children. And God knew what else might be in the rubble of the citadel. Radioactive materials, reaper fragments… what the hell had happened to the keepers? Were they all dead, or would they regroup, attempting to rebuild the citadel from scrap? 

“Who knows the most about the citadel? Schematics, construction methods, materials used?”

“That would be the asari, sir. They discovered it first.”

“Of course,” he said, and not for the first time that day, he felt like hugging Traynor. A fresh ray of light in a very, very difficult place. If he could convince the asari to join the salvage operation, it would not only help figure out what had happened to the citadel, but also give the restless species something meaningful to do while they waited to get off world. He looked at Traynor with new light in his eyes. “Shepard must have been very proud of you.”

Traynor flushed, and he thought he saw telltale moisture gather in her eyes. “Thank you, sir,” she managed, then went back to her duties.

 

_Vancouver  
275 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Kaidan woke to a cold bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. It was the middle of the night, just a few days left until he and Shepard were due to return to London. But why was the bed empty?

Shepard had probably just gone to the bathroom, he told himself. Or he was getting himself a drink in the kitchen…

A dark shape sitting in the chair by the window startled him, and Kaidan could just make out Shepard’s features in the faint moonlight. His knees were tucked up to his chest, shoulders tense, his face expressionless.

“Shepard?” he called softly. 

“I’m sorry.” The words were thin, barely there, and Kaidan frowned. 

“Sorry for what?”

“I was wrong. It shouldn’t have been this way. For everything.”

The doctors had warned him that Shepard might have episodes like this. Those last moments in the citadel had done something to his mind, they’d said. When they’d found him, barely breathing in the rubble, he’d been delusional, unable to understand that the reapers had been destroyed, that the war was over. Kaidan slipped out of bed, feeling his skin prickle in the cold air, and knelt beside Shepard.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Shepard shook his head. “I destroyed the reapers.”

Not the first time he had asked for confirmation of that. “Yes, you did.” But Shepard’s next words knocked the wind right out of him.

“Shouldn’t have.”

It took Kaidan a moment to find his voice, the words coming out strangled, tight. “What do you mean?”

“Shouldn’t have destroyed them.”

What, in God’s green earth, would make him think that? “Why not?” Kaidan forced himself to say. _Indoctrination._ The word echoed through his head, the only valid reason he could come up with.

“They were too valuable. They would have made the galaxy a better place.”

Kaidan felt sick, a wave of nausea rising in his throat, forcibly pushed down again. “Shepard… you’re very tired,” he hedged, caught completely unprepared for this bizarre, gut-wrenching turn of events. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

Shepard turned to him, hand tracing his jaw, cupping his cheek. Then he leaned forward to press a kiss to Kaidan’s lips. “I wasn’t brave enough,” he said, desperation edging into his voice. “But it would have been better.” A sob, stifled in the darkness. “The Illusive Man was right.”

What the hell was he supposed to do? “Come back to bed. You did the right thing.”

“Couldn’t leave you,” Shepard muttered, as he followed Kaidan back to bed, allowed himself to be cocooned beneath the sheets. Kissed him, long and hard. “I couldn’t leave you.”

“Thank God for that,” Kaidan replied, feeling hot, then cold, as waves of panic spread over him. “We need you.” Shepard pulled their hips together, his erection hot against Kaidan’s limp cock. 

“I need you,” Shepard said, taking Kaidan’s hand and pushing it inside his pants. “Always.”

“I love you,” Kaidan replied, feeling sick to his stomach. He kissed Shepard, stroking his cock. “I love you.”

 

_London Air Base  
85 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Hackett-Admiral. May I speak with you privately?” 

The polite request from the geth prime was still somewhat incongruous. They had been slowly learning human customs, but the concept that some conversations should be kept private was quite foreign to a species that had had a singular consciousness for hundreds of years.

“Of course,” Hackett agreed. “Come in. Close the door.” That he actually had a door, now, was progress in itself. “What’s the problem?”

“You requested that I keep you informed if any further complications occurred with the salarian engineering team. We have discovered a… complication.”

Hackett felt his heart sink. It had been such a good day so far… 

“The prime units working on the relay became concerned that the eezo core was not stable. We attempted to discuss this with the salarians. They gave us access to all their files on the core construction, as you had instructed, however, we encountered an anomaly.”

Shade, the geth prime, activated his omni-tool and called up a schematic of the relay. “We requested that a geth stalker examine the structure of the core. The structure did not match the schematics presented by the salarians. So we attempted to hack their data.”

Hackett’s eyes widened. This had ‘diplomatic incident’ written all over it. Oblivious to his concern, Shade continued.

“We discovered 278 files which the salarians had not allowed us access to. Several of them contained information on ‘how to kill geth’.”

“I see,” Hackett managed, mind racing. 

“We have attempted to cooperate with organics in the hope of a peaceful coexistence,” the geth went on. “Are our efforts… in vain?”

“No,” Hackett replied instantly. “Absolutely not. Most organics have been extremely grateful for your help.” He took a deep breath. “But clearly the salarians are not willing to cooperate with you. I think what we need to do,” he said slowly, plans forming in his mind as he spoke, “is replace the salarian scientists with humans, and find some other work for the salarians to do. The geth are extremely important to Earth in rebuilding the relay. I think humans might be more willing to cooperate with you.” By God, he hoped they would be.

Shade considered that for a moment. “This unit has experienced 981 positive encounters with humans, compared to only 57 positive encounters with salarians. Your reasoning is sound. I will instruct the geth to cease repairs until the salarians are replaced.”


	6. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having fun writing this. Waaaaay too much fun.

_Vancouver  
276 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Kaidan waited until the water started running in the bathroom, then dashed downstairs and called Hackett on an emergency channel from his omni-tool. He headed into the study and shut the door, glancing at the clock on the wall. He had fifteen minutes before Shepard was finished in the shower, dressed and downstairs. Hopefully that was enough time.

Hackett answered quickly, his expression concerned. “Major. What’s happening?”

But now that he had to tell the Admiral about it, Kaidan found that words failed him. ‘Shepard is indoctrinated’ wasn’t something he could just blurt out, no matter how short on time he was. Horrifying scenarios had been playing out in his head all night, as Shepard had slept peacefully against his shoulder, of indoctrinated personnel attacking their friends and comrades, of them taking a gun to their teammates… or to their own heads. So far, Shepard had shown neither tendency, but his declarations in the small hours of the morning could well be a prelude to much, much darker things.

“Something happened last night. To do with Shepard,” he began. He took a slow, shaky breath, forcing himself to start at the beginning. “He woke up in the middle of the night. Seemed disoriented. The doctors said he might have episodes like that… but then he…”

“He did what, son?”

“He apologised for destroying the reapers. He said he shouldn’t have done it, and the galaxy would be better if they were still around.” The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other as Kaidan’s heart raced.

Hackett was silent, grave and solemn. “And you think he could be indoctrinated,” he said finally. 

“I wish there was a better explanation,” Kaidan said, “but I can’t think of one. And I haven’t dared ask him about it again. You know what happened to all the indoctrinated people after the reapers were destroyed.”

Suicides. Sometimes very messy ones. And meaningless slaughter. Hackett looked suddenly alarmed. “He hasn’t tried to…?”

“He hasn’t tried anything. Yet. But I really don’t want to accidentally trigger something.”

“This is not what we need right now,” Hackett said solemnly. “He seemed to be doing so well. And his psych tests were all clear.”

Kaidan nodded. “I know, but…”

“I’m not dismissing your concerns, Major. I suppose I’m just trying to be optimistic.”

“We’re due back in London in a few days. I thought maybe you could arrange another psychiatric evaluation,” Kaidan said awkwardly. Doubting Shepard, going behind his back defied everything he believed in. And yet…

“I’ll schedule something with the hospital. He’s due for a physical check up anyway, isn’t he? I’m sure I can tack something on without being too obvious about it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Until then… don’t mention this to him, okay? And let’s hope this is just… post traumatic stress. Sit tight. Hackett out.”

 

_East Central Hospital  
70 days since the reapers were destroyed_

James sat in a hard chair, contemplating the dull, white wall in front of him, while a bank of machines to the right kept records of Shepard’s heart rate, respiration, blood pressure. 

They had finally moved out of the temporary hospital into a real one, the area cleared of debris and a shuttle landing pad readied for the transport of patients. Power had been restored, along with running water, and casualties had flooded in from all over the region. Doctors were finally able to perform complex operations. Medications were being shipped in from France. 

And Shepard remained in a coma. 

James had been granted leave for 48 hours and had made a beeline for the hospital. When he’d arrived, Kaidan had looked like hell, and he’d wasted no time in sending the Major off for a shower, a change of clothes and a good feed.

But now, scarcely ten minutes later, he was rethinking the wisdom of his haste to get Alenko out of the room. Shepard lay on the white bed, motionless, his breathing at a slow, steady rate, nothing to indicate the faintest connection to the real world. 

James had been expecting something, coming here, though he wasn’t quite sure what. Maybe a sense of purpose, knowing he was working to rebuild the world Shepard had fought to preserve. Maybe an absolution. He’d boarded the Normandy without a backward glance, once the evac came through. Helped Kaidan to the medical bay, bleeding and limping. And Shepard had continued the push towards the beam. Alone. 

The silence was getting to him and James felt a shiver crawl up his spine. What if Shepard died, here, now, with him watching? Should he have gotten Kaidan to stay? 

Or what if Shepard woke up? Surely he wouldn’t want to see James front and centre, the man who had left him to face the reapers alone without a second thought? Kaidan, at least, had protested his orders to evacuate, despite his life’s blood leaking all over the floor. 

James had signed up for the N7 program, had the damned tattoo engraved on his back, and then, at the first real challenge, had turned tail and run like the coward he was. Not the sort of thing Shepard would be proud of.

“You look like hell,” a voice said rudely, and James spun around, gun drawn, halfway out of his chair before he registered the woman standing at the entrance to the room. He took another few seconds to decide whether he should put his gun away, and did so with no small measure of reluctance. 

The woman crossed her arms. “Really? You think I’m that much of a bitch that I’d kick the man when he’s down?”

James felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his face. “No. Sorry. I just…”

Her indignation vanished as quickly as it had arrived. “You want to protect him. I get that.”

“Jack, right?” he asked, taking a seat again and waving the woman towards another just like it.

“That’s right. Surprised you remember me.”

“You made an impression,” James said before he could think better of it, but Jack just laughed. 

“Yeah, I tend to do that.” She sighed. Stared at Shepard. Glared at James. “My squad got trapped in an underground bunker when the citadel crashed,” she said indignantly, as if daring him to question her. “Took us weeks to dig them all out, or I would have been here sooner.” Was it his imagination or did she sound guilty about it? “How’s the boy scout doing?”

James gestured to Shepard, the picture of him lying helpless on the bed saying it all. “That’s pretty much it,” he told her. “He’s been in a coma since they found him. The doc says the wounds are healing, but he had a fracture in his skull – something hit him hard in the head, so no telling what kind of permanent damage there might be.”

They lapsed into silence again. Then James suddenly stood up.

“Say, do you want some time alone with him? Cos I could go make myself useful somewhere else for a bit…”

Jack thought about the offer. Then she nodded, absent the sharp retort he had been expecting. “Yeah,” she said softly. “That’d be nice.”

James nodded and quietly exited the room.

Out in the hall, he found himself a cup of coffee from a vending machine and paced, up the hall. Back down. Round the corner, just for a change of scenery. And then he spotted Kaidan, looking fresher and cleaner, but no less tired, heading back his way. He drained the last of the coffee and tossed the cup.

“That must have been the fastest meal in recorded history,” he started, then rolled his eyes as Kaidan held up a packet of sandwiches, without even bothering to dodge the question. He headed straight for the door, but James stepped into his path.

“Ah… I’d give it a bit longer. He’s got another visitor. That crazy Jack chick. I said I’d give her a little privacy.” At Kaidan’s dubious look, he shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But Shepard seemed to trust her, back in Grissom Academy. And she came to the party, at Shepard’s apartment. Although rumour has it she has a pet varren. Maybe I shouldn’t have left them alone…”

Kaidan snorted out a laugh. “The first time I met her, she walked up to Shepard, punched him in the face and yelled at him for ever trusting Cerberus.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?” It didn’t sound so far removed from what Kaidan himself had done, back on Horizon. Yeah, James hadn’t been around for that one, but Joker did love to reminisce.

And Kaidan must have caught a hint of his train of thoughts, because he scowled, and said “Hey, I never punched him for it. Still, I kind of liked Jack for that.”

“Not a whole lot of impulse control, yeah?”

Suddenly, the door opened and Jack marched out, almost running into James. He leapt back as she pulled up short, then they both apologised awkwardly. She saw Kaidan and a hint of empathy crossed her face. “Hey, Alenko. You take good care of him, you hear?” It came out sounding half like an order, half like a complaint, but Kaidan just nodded. 

Jack went to head off down the hall, then turned back for a moment. “Listen, I’m gonna be around for a little while. Some of my kids are in here. The treatment’s a hell of a lot better than the mobile med stations. So… is it okay if I come see him some time?” All trace of her brash aggression had fled and James watched as Kaidan sized her up warily.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the visit,” he said finally and Jack nodded. 

“See you round,” she said, then strode off down the hall.

 

_Vancouver  
276 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Shepard tilted his head back into the hot spray of the shower, wishing his guilt would wash away as easily as the soap and sweat.

The memories of the Catalyst were still raw. An AI, an ancient civilization’s worst mistake, left to dictate the lives of countless trillions for millennia thereafter. 

_Control. Synthesis. Destroy._

He had made the wrong choice. He’d known that at the time. Destroying the reapers was the coward’s way out, the fool’s way. Destroying them only put the galaxy on a path towards its own destruction, the day when synthetics and organics would again go to war and wipe each other out. That was the fundamental cycle, Leviathan had said, long before the Catalyst took control and instigated its own cycle.

He should have chosen to control them.

Millions of years of knowledge, research, culture, technology, stored in synthetic form, available for use by the current cycle’s inhabitants. The information would have doubled, tripled their understanding of the galaxy. New medical treatments, uncharted worlds laid bare, technology vastly more advanced than their own. Even Javik had called their communication ‘primitive’, the prothean memory shards and beacons making use of far more advanced and accurate modes of information transmission.

And he had destroyed it all. Wiped clean, all the sacrifices of thousands of species for nothing, all their art, their research, their technology, lost because he was too much of a coward to take control of the reapers, to abandon his own humanity and become their leader, their guide, able to use their collective wisdom for the benefit of the humans, the asari, the turians…

And all because of a handful of words, uttered in a desperate moment by a man who would never realise the magnitude of his request.

_“I can’t lose you again…”_

Those five words had decided the fate of a galaxy.

He should probably have explained himself to Kaidan this morning. He knew he’d rambled on about the reapers last night, but couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said. Probably scared the man half out of his mind.

But what the hell was he supposed to say? _‘I’m sorry I chose to stay with you. I wish I’d had the courage to break your heart and leave you behind again, just so life could be better for everyone else. But not for you. Never for you.’_

Or even better, _‘It’s your fault the galaxy is rebuilding itself out of scrap metal and shredded wiring, because you asked me to stay with you instead of giving up my corporeal being to become a massively powerful AI.’_

Shit. Yeah, maybe silence was a better way to deal with this. He’d never told anyone what had happened on the citadel. The Alliance was still ignorant of the true nature of the Catalyst. Oblivious to the choice he had made on behalf of trillions of people. Because, God, if they knew, who would ever be able to forgive him? How was he ever to forgive himself?

If he was lucky, Kaidan would just put whatever he had said down to disoriented ramblings, and that would be the end of it.

If only his guilt was so easily dismissed.

 

_London Air Base  
278 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Hackett waited while the geth trooper tinkered with the communications terminal. 

“Palaven has four comm buoys operational. Communications traffic is limited to high level clearance only. Do you qualify?” the geth asked him blithely.

“Yes. Do you need me to enter the clearance code?”

“Yes.”

He stepped forward while the geth politely looked away and entered the code, then moved aside so the geth could finish creating the link. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name,” he said suddenly. He’d made an effort to think of the geth as individual beings, but since very few of them had customized their mobile platforms, it was still extremely difficult to tell them apart. 

“This unit has not chosen a unique designation,” it informed him, without looking up. “I am known as Unit 337.” It stepped back and lifted its head. “Your comm link is now operational. I will wait outside.”

“Thank you.” He waited until the geth had left, then activated the link. “Primarch Victus. Thank you for taking the time to speak to me. You must be busy.”

“If I wasn’t busy, I wouldn’t be doing my job. But progress has been encouraging. The geth are invaluable in repairing the relay. And the quarians are a remarkably skilled race. It’s astonishing that we looked down on them for so long.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the quarians.” Hackett said. “The asari and the salarians have yet to select their members for the new council – I imagine it will have to wait until they can gather their leaders on their home worlds and reach some agreement on the matter. But we’ve selected our candidate for the humans and the krogan have a female they’ve elected. How did the quarians react to the proposal? And have the turians made a selection?”

“The quarians were grateful for the consideration. Admiral Zaal’Koris was proposed almost immediately. It seems he was instrumental in the peace agreement between the quarians and the geth, and his people have a lot of faith in him to continue to see to their best interests. But it’s… it’s a difficult situation for them. Many of their people, and a large number of geth, are still on Rannoch, while the military arms of the fleet and most of the Admirals are here. It could take years to get them back to their home world, and they’re worried about their society fragmenting in their absence.”

“All the more reason to get the council organised. We need a plan for which relays to repair first. There’s a good argument for getting each species access to their home world, at least, even if they can’t access all of their colonies, but that would mean repairing at least six relays to get to Rannoch. Even with the best intentions, I don’t know if we can spare that many resources.”

“Agreed. I’ve spoken to the Turian Heirarchy. We think we’ve found someone who would make an excellent councilor for the turians. I haven’t discussed it with him yet, but I expect you’ll approve of the choice.”

“Someone I know?” Hackett asked, surprised. There were relatively few turians he knew personally, though he held those he did in high regard. 

“Garrus Vakarian,” Victus said proudly. “He’s just the sort of soldier I admire. Thinks outside the box, doesn’t get bogged down with regulations.”

“But he’s a soldier, not a politician,” Hackett pointed out. “Could he be persuaded to do the job?”

“I believe he can be brought around to see reason,” Victus replied. “He’s overseeing a construction project in the south at the moment, but he should return to the capital within a week. I’ll speak to him then and let you know what he says. Victus out.”

 

_Temporary Hospital – Eastern London  
13 days since the reapers were destroyed_

They ushered him from the shuttle, Hackett with deep frown lines on his face, the guards exchanging sideways glances that said they knew exactly what the hell was going on, and were as scared as the rest of them. Garrus and Liara hurried along beside him, as desperately worried as he was, though none of them would put it into words. Since they had received the call six days ago that the Normandy was urgently needed in London, EDI had done everything in her power to get them back here. Life support was the only thing running on the battered ship, all other power diverted to the FTL drive, and the crew had been living on protein bars and taking cold showers for the better part of a week. 

No one had complained. 

Sleep had been all but non-existent, Kaidan’s mind running in circles for hours until he would finally drift off around 3 in the morning, only to wake, sweaty and shaken, by dreams of Shepard, alive, dead, dying, wounded and in pain. 

The waiting was killing him.

The walk to the hospital seemed to take forever, debris littering the ground, landing zones few and far between, and Kaidan wanted to scream, desperate to run, going out of his mind at the insanely slow pace Hackett was setting. 

Okay, he was going as a brisk march, but still…

Then they were led inside a warehouse, temporary partitions creating the illusions of hallways and rooms, makeshift doorways covered with sheets to afford a semblance of privacy. 

“This way, sir,” a corporal said, on seeing the Admiral arrive, and though no one had ever said his name, not via the comm link, not since his feet had hit the ground on Earth, Kaidan knew who they were taking him to see. 

The hallway was long and Kaidan’s heart fluttered each time they reached a doorway… only to sink in disappointment, until the next sheet-covered gap came into view. 

And then they were there, the corporal holding the sheet aside, a body lying still and silent on the bed, as machines beeped around him. For an instant, Kaidan didn’t recognise the man in the bed, wondering if they had brought him to the wrong room. And then, through the swollen bruises and layers of bandage, the all too familiar shape of Shepard’s face appeared.

He staggered to the bed, collapsing into a chair as his legs gave out, but his hand was already seeking out Shepard’s, his fingers gripping that lax hand like it was a lifeline to a drowning man. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t notice. 

“Shepard.”


	7. Misguided Endeavors

_East Central Hospital  
280 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Okay,” the psychiatrist said, in an amiable voice. “Next we’re going to try some simple word associations. I’m going to say a word, and I want you to tell me the first word that comes into your head, okay?”

Shepard nodded, trying hard to concentrate. Upon arriving back at the hospital, Hackett had informed him that he’d arranged an apartment for him and Kaidan to use. The geth had been remarkably helpful in repairing a section of the city, and half a dozen blocks were now inhabitable, complete with electricity and running water. 

But first, as a precaution after his extended stay in Vancouver, Shepard was to undergo a full physical and psychiatric assessment. 

The physical part had been draining, test after test, brain scans, x-rays, even a session on the treadmill, to see how his cardiovascular system was coping. And he’d endured it with admirable self-restraint, despite the long shuttle trip to get back here.

But if he’d thought that was tough, the psychiatric tests were a hundred times worse. 

“Soldier,” the psychiatrist said.

“Me,” Shepard replied. 

“Earth.”

“Home.”

“Hackett.”

“Sergeant,” Shepard replied, then realised what he had just said. “Um, no, I don’t think that was right.”

“It’s okay,” the psychiatrist said. “There are no right or wrong answers. This is a deliberately illogical exercise.”

Shepard nodded. Took a deep breath. “Okay. Continue.”

“War.”

“Over,” Shepard said emphatically.

“Turian.”

“Helpful.”

“Reaper.” 

Shepard opened his mouth to reply… and found his mind completely blank.

“Shepard?” the psychiatrist prompted him. “Reaper?”

“I… I don’t know,” he said tentatively. 

“The first word into your head,” the psychiatrist tried. “Any word at all.”

“Nothing… comes to mind,” Shepard said. “I see a picture of one in my head, but there’s no words with it.”

“Hmm.” The psychiatrist tapped an entry into his datapad, brows furrowed in concentration. “Okay, let’s try something else…”

 

_London Air Base  
280 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Traynor tapped the communications terminal, frustrated at the persistent static in the signal. Okay, so admittedly the terminal had been rebuilt with a microprocessor salvaged from a crashed geth ship and wiring ripped out of a demolished mako, but she was an expert at this! The connections were flawless, the link was steady… why was there a waver in the signal?

‘Okay Traynor,’ she said to herself. ‘You’re smart. You can figure this out.’ What was that old saying? If all the obvious solutions have been eliminated, then whatever is left, however improbable, has to be the answer.

Okay, so assuming that she had done everything right – and she _had_ done everything right – what could be the problem? 

Take it from a different angle, she thought. If she’d just been given a brand new terminal, attached to a flawless uplink, what would she make of the waver in the signal?

Well, that was obvious. Somebody was trying to piggyback a second signal over her own, hoping it wouldn’t be detected. Except that was stupid, because since the latest microprocessor had been upgraded by the Sirta Foundation, piggybacked signals were just too easy to detect.

Unless, she realised, feeling her heart speed up, unless you were using a system patched from bits of old wiring and exploded circuitry and held together with duct tape. If that was the case, then most people would just put the anomaly down to faulty equipment. 

And just because the reapers had been destroyed, that didn’t mean the galaxy was free from nefarious people. There had been crime and profiteering long before Saren had started his reign of terror with the heretic geth, so there was no reason it couldn’t be happening right under her nose.

A moment later, Traynor was running diagnostics on the signal, tracing its origin, working to decode the meaning of the weak and intermittent static.

 

_London Apartment  
280 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Kaidan opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside. Shepard looked half asleep, limping noticeably, and Kaidan felt like kicking himself for allowing him to go through such a barrage of tests all in the one day.

The psychiatrist had pointed out, in a quiet, private moment, that it was better to run the tests when Shepard was tired, to minimise his natural defences to the probing. Which only made Kaidan feel like more of a bastard. ‘Inconclusive’, the doctor had told him later, and that he was going to have to review the full set of tests before making a recommendation. The news didn’t make Kaidan feel any better.

“I’m going to take the bags to the bedroom,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him. “Do you want to take a nap? Or get something to eat?” Shepard had dozed on the shuttle, and Kaidan had assumed he’d want to go straight to bed.

But Shepard got a strange glint in his eyes, a sly smirk rising onto his lips, and he seemed to shake off the worst of the tiredness. “Nope,” he said simply, then turned in a full circle, taking in the new apartment. It was small, though clean and serviceable, and the entire thing probably fitted into one of the rooms from Shepard’s apartment on the Citadel - the apartment that was currently strewn in pieces across London. The paint was new, but the furniture looked second hand. Not that either of them would complain. Too many residents were still sheltering in three-sided shacks with leaky roofs – a dangerous situation, given the chilling winter weather. It was an honor, a privilege, to be given this place.

“It’s not bad,” Shepard said, then peered into the kitchen. “You can impress me with more of your home cooking later.” Then he opened the door that they both assumed led to the bedroom and wandered inside. Kaidan followed him, dropping the bags at the foot of the bed.

The room was cold, the heating only recently having been turned on, and it was sparsely furnished, a bed, a wardrobe and a single lamp in the corner. But it was big enough for the two of them, and Kaidan could well imagine calling it home for the foreseeable future.

“I think your cabin on the Normandy was bigger than this,” he said, and Shepard laughed. 

“I think my fish tank was bigger than this.” He sat down on the bed and bounced experimentally. “The bed is definitely softer than the Normandy’s.” 

If Kaidan had been paying more attention, he would have caught the suggestive tone in Shepard’s voice. But his mind was elsewhere, planning the trip to the Air Base Hackett had asked him to take, wondering if he should take Shepard with him, or whether it was safe to leave him alone in the apartment. Working out how to fit in a trip to the hospital to wring some answers out of the psychiatrist. Shepard would still need to go back for physiotherapy sessions. There would surely be time during one of his appointments when Kaidan could slip out for a few minutes…

“Hey.” Shepard stood up, taking both Kaidan’s hands in his. “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah,” Kaidan replied, still distracted. “Just thinking about tomorrow. Planning things. London’s still a mess…” The brief glimpses they had gotten of the streets told them more than any briefing could. “…and Hackett will probably want me to go help out with the rebuild-“

“Kaidan,” Shepard said more firmly, pulling him up short. That strange smile was on his lips again, and Kaidan noticed it this time. 

“What?”

“We’ve just gotten back. We have our own apartment. And I spoke to the surgeon while I was at the hospital.” 

That Kaidan didn’t see his next words coming was testament to how worried and distracted he really was.

Shepard leaned forward, putting is mouth by Kaidan’s ear. “He said you’re allowed to fuck me.”

Kaidan felt his jaw drop. He’d always found it a serious turn on that Shepard liked to bottom at all. Okay, yeah, it was a stereotype, but the man had always seemed so in control, the one used to giving the orders, making the decisions, that to have him let Kaidan take the lead in bed was… exhilarating. 

When Shepard had first asked him to do it, he’d been so fixed in his own expectations that at first, he had misunderstood.

_“I want to try something different,”_ Shepard had murmured into his ear, as they lay in bed in his cabin, shirtless, their pants undone, only minutes away from the main event of the evening. _“I want you to fuck me,”_ he’d said, his voice deep and husky, completely unabashed about his request.

Kaidan had laughed. _“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”_ he’d asked, completely missing the point.

And Shepard had looked… disappointed, for just a moment. Then he’d shaken his head and slipped his hand inside Kaidan’s pants, stroking him in his hot, calloused grip. _“No, I mean… I want you inside me.”_

Kaidan had all but come in his pants.

“Oh, God, yes.” His response then had been the same as his answer now, and for a moment, he had the overwhelming sense that everything was going to be okay. He looped his arms around Shepard’s shoulders and hugged him close. Shepard was going to be fine, he felt in that moment, both physically and mentally. London would be rebuilt, the mass relays would be repaired, they had a bright and hopeful future in front of them.

He pulled back and kissed Shepard, backed him towards the bed, already pulling his sweater off, toeing off his boots. “Fuck, I want you so much…”

“Are you okay?” Shepard was on board with getting naked, already shrugging out of his own sweater, but he had a concerned frown on his face. “I mean, you just seem… a little stressed.”

Kaidan stopped, took Shepard’s face in his hands, and looked steadily into his lover’s eyes. “I want you to be healthy,” he said honestly, and the fact that he meant it psychologically as well as physically didn’t make it any less honest. “And I want you to be happy. I want to be able to give you everything you want.”

Shepard smiled, a tender, shy expression, and ran his thumb over Kaidan’s lower lip. “I want that for you, too,” he said. “And I know this has been a long, hard road, but if looking after me is too much, then that’s okay. We’re allowed to ask for help. You just have to tell me if there’s anything wrong.”

Heaven help him, whatever he said next would be a lie, if only by omission. Something was wrong, possibly horribly so. And he was keeping it from Shepard, doubting him in a way he had promised he would never do again.

So instead of answering, he stepped closer, his hands fumbling for Shepard’s belt buckle. “Take your pants off,” he murmured against Shepard’s mouth before diving in for a heated kiss. “Let’s give this bed a workout.”

 

_Shuttle over London  
280 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Cortez engaged the autopilot as he took the shuttle back to the Air Base, his mind barely keeping track of the landmarks along the way. 

It had been nostalgic, both a happy and painful experience, to fly Shepard back from Vancouver. There had been so many trips during the war, some routine and ordinary, others delving into far more dangerous territory, like the crash landing on Despoina when Leviathan blew them out of the sky. Or the harvesters raining hell on them on Namakli, when they had gone to rescue Ann Bryson. 

It had been harder than he had thought, seeing the Commander looking so tired and complacent. He was used to a Shepard who barked out orders, had a plan for everything, was ready to take on any risk to reach the needed outcome. But the Shepard he had just dropped at a non-descript apartment block had been happy to follow Alenko’s lead, had allowed Cortez to carry his bag for him, had limped and clutched the hand rail on the stairs for support.

And there was a part of him that was painfully jealous of Alenko. 

Back on the Normandy, after their rushed escape from Earth and the reapers, Shepard had been solicitous, talking him through his grief over Robert, encouraging him to move forward. And for a time, Cortez had thought that maybe… maybe the Commander had feelings for him. He cared for all his crew, that much was clear, but hadn’t there been something more, something unique and special about the way Shepard spoke with him? About the frequency with which he visited the cargo bay?

And then, when he’d finally worked up the courage to do something about it… He’d invited Shepard to Purgatory, not into the bar scene himself, but he’d heard the crew talking about seeing Shepard there and figured he must have liked the place. And he’d been on his way out of the Normandy, going to find something to eat before he met Shepard there later that evening, when he’d seen the Commander making his way through the CIC. Alenko had been close behind, and Cortez wouldn’t have thought any more of it, Kaidan keeping his eyes front and centre, both their expressions carefully neutral. As Shepard’s second in command, it wouldn’t have been the first time the two of them had closeted themselves away to discuss mission details or interspecies politics.

But as the elevator closed, just for an instant, he’d seen Shepard turn to Alenko, a smirk on his lips, and then he’d leaned in and kissed him, visible for a split second before the doors hid them from view.

And Steve’s misplaced hopes had come crashing down.

Of course, it hadn’t stopped Shepard flirting with him later in the club. Eye-candy, he’d all but called himself, and Cortez would certainly agree. Had agreed, in fact. But he’d also forced himself to acknowledge that Shepard had something going with Alenko, and there had been no hint of denial, no awkwardness at the fact that his secret was out. Just a toast to friendship, and the end to any hope that the Commander might ever return his feelings.

But that hadn’t stopped Cortez from going out of his way to care for his CO. Watching the game at the apartment, taking him on a shuttle ride through the citadel, trying to get him to just relax once in a while, take his mind off the war. With a little lighthearted flirting thrown in.

But the war was over, and there was no longer any need for him to protect Shepard. Besides, Kaidan had that covered, much to Shepard’s satisfaction, it seemed. 

Cortez shook his head, as if to clear it, and turned his attention back to the shuttle. It was time he got over this fanciful crush, and got on with his life.


	8. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think I finally have the makings of a decent plot going on here. It only took me 8 chapters...  
> And I think things are going to get a lot more linear from here on in. Less jumping back and forth in time.

_London Apartment  
282 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Shepard looked up in surprise as Kaidan came out of the bedroom with his uniform on. He’d told Shepard they were going to the Air Base, that Hackett had asked him to call by, but somehow he’d misconstrued the nature of the visit.

“You’re still on active duty?” he asked, hearing not just surprise, but a hint of resentment in his own voice.

“It’s more of a consultation role, really,” Kaidan said, and Shepard knew a deflection when he heard one. “I’m still one of the galaxy’s foremost experts on reapers. And geth. And I heard a rumour that the Normandy’s heading back our way. I think Hackett wants to talk about EDI. They’re not really sure what to do with her now.”

“EDI?” That got his attention. “Why? Is she alright?” He’d heard that the Normandy had taken Garrus and Tali back to Palaven, but he hadn’t thought to ask for any details. 

Kaidan looked up in surprise, perhaps having just realised how much of the situation he had failed to mention. “Ah, well… They needed ships to take passengers off world, and even though there’s been a shortage of ships, there’s been an even bigger shortage of qualified personnel to captain those ships. So… they gave EDI command of the Normandy. Temporarily, I think,” he added quickly. “She’s due back in a few days.” He trailed off. “I guess Hackett should really have talked to you about that.”

“Would have been nice,” Shepard said, an edge to his voice. “Just because the body hasn’t healed doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind.”

Wisely, Kaidan said nothing. 

 

_London Air Base  
282 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Admiral Hackett?” Traynor knocked on the open office door, and Hackett waved her inside. She stepped up to his desk, datapad in hand, then thought better of it. She hastily went back and closed the door, ensuring their privacy, much to Hackett’s consternation.

“Sir, I think we have a problem,” she began, and handed him the datapad. “I noticed an anomaly in the communications signals a few days ago and I’ve been trying to analyse it. Someone has been piggybacking an encrypted signal though our systems. I haven’t managed to work out what the message says, but I do recognise some of the encryption techniques.” 

Hackett skimmed over the information on the datapad, a frown settling onto his forehead. “What do you know about the encryption?” he asked, once he’d finished.

“I’m not 100% certain right now, but they look fairly similar to some encryptions I worked on during the war. They were sent by Cerberus.”

Stony silence filled the room.

“Cerberus?” There was a world of loathing in Hackett’s voice. “But Shepard told us the Illusive Man was dead.”

Traynor had heard the rumours, a simply stated ‘The Illusive Man tried to stop the crucible from firing. So I shot him.’ Short and to the point, as was typical of Shepard. “Just because their leader is dead doesn’t mean there aren’t Cerberus factions still trying to maintain their operations. And for all we know, someone else might have taken the reins. A second in command, maybe. Or,” she went on, thinking aloud, “maybe it’s someone else entirely, and they’ve just used some old code that Cerberus had. Either way, there’s someone up to something. And the message is definitely meant for someone in London, sir.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Hackett said, concerned. “It could be someone in the Alliance. Civilians. Any number of aliens. Good heavens, it could even be the geth.”

“Unlikely, sir. The signal is being transmitted in a rather clumsy way, taking advantage of the damage to our comms units. The geth have the technology to make a hidden signal far less noticeable.” Then she realised what she had just said. “Oh. Um… maybe that’s not such a good thing after all.”

“Don’t worry about the geth for now,” Hackett said calmly. “Can you decode the signal?”

“Well, I had some algorithms on the Normandy that would have done it in a flash, but…”

To her surprise, Hackett brightened. “Terrific. The Normandy is due back here in a few days. As soon as she’s back, talk to EDI and get that signal analysed.”

Traynor snapped out a crisp salute. “Yes, sir.”

 

_London Air Base  
282 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Hackett gave Shepard a once-over as he climbed out of the shuttle, and Shepard made an effort to stand up straight. “Sir,” he greeted him, sorely tempted to salute, but rather accepting the handshake Hackett offered. Kaidan saluted.

“You’re looking better,” Hackett said, no holds barred in his honest assessment of the situation. Truth be told, two days ago when he had first arrived back here, Shepard had probably looked like hell. A sleepless night followed by hours cramped in a shuttle would do that. 

“It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do, sir,” Shepard replied, making an effort to keep it amiable. He had some sharp words to say to Hackett later about keeping him out of the loop where EDI was concerned, but that could wait until they were in private.

“The apartment’s working out?” Hackett asked, leading them towards a run down building. It was serviceable, the walls intact, the ceiling keeping the winter rain out, but it was ugly, chunks of concrete dented out of the walls, windows boarded up.

“Apartment’s excellent, sir. Thank you again.”

They stopped outside an office, and Hackett paused in the doorway. “The Major and I have some things to discuss, Shepard, but there’s a lounge down the hall, and-“

Before Shepard could get a word out to protest the dismissal, Kaidan had already jumped in.

“Shepard would like to sit in on the briefing, sir,” his husky voice said firmly, leaving little room for discussion, and Shepard felt a twinge of embarrassed relief for a moment. He had expected to have to fight them both for the right to this information. When the hell had he forgotten than Kaidan had his back? “He’d particularly like to discuss EDI with you.” Was it his imagination, or was there a note of reproach aimed at Hackett through that carefully cultured military-subordinate voice? He glanced at Kaidan’s face. Yes, there had been.

Hackett froze for a moment, then seemed to decide there was no point in arguing. He opened the door and stepped aside. “After you.”

All three of them seated themselves, the half dozen empty chairs in the room indicating that more Alliance personnel would be joining them later.

Hackett wasted no time in getting started. “There was never an intention to leave you out of the loop where EDI was concerned,” He told Shepard apologetically. “When she was assigned to take the Normandy to Palaven, you were two days out of a three-month-long coma. By the time we heard word about her return, you were in Vancouver, and… well, to be honest, Shepard, I just thought you could use a rest. I didn’t want you worrying that the galaxy was falling to bits as soon as you’d turned your back.” 

“Which it is, if anything on the extranet is to be believed,” Shepard pointed out. Truth be told, there was precious little on the extranet, a mere handful of news networks still operating, but what was accessible was all bad news. 

Hackett made a non-committal sound. “I was going to wait for the results from your latest medical before asking you how you were feeling about the Alliance, but since it’s come up… it sounds like you’d like to make yourself useful somehow?”

Did he? Now that he thought about it, stepping right back into the thick of it, having lives depend on his decisions sounded… exhausting. 

But sitting in his tiny apartment waiting for Kaidan to come home was just… pathetic. There had to be a middle ground somewhere. But somehow, he didn’t think the Alliance would let Commander Shepard, Saviour of the Galaxy, take a simple desk job.

“For now I’d just like to be kept up to date with what’s going on. The rebuild, interspecies relations. Anything that affects my old crew. I’ve still got a few good ideas kicking around up here.” He tapped his head.

“Fair enough,” Hackett conceded. He turned to include Kaidan in the conversation. “Let me fill you in on what’s been happening.”

 

Hours later, Shepard suppressed a yawn as he followed the cluster of officials and guests out onto the street. The meeting had been long, and in his view, it had achieved little. There had been ongoing tensions between various groups of aliens, concerns about relying too heavily on the geth for the rebuilding efforts, and, of course, an extended discussion about EDI. 

There were several firm objections to allowing her to become a recognised member of the Alliance, an utter lack of agreement on what her rank should be if she was invited in, and several people who thought the only safe thing to do with her was shut her down. 

But complicating the issue was the matter of the Normandy. It wasn’t just a stealth war ship, any more, it was EDI’s body, her home, and quite possibly incapable of functioning without her. And the reaction on that front was more of a political one than one based on any pragmatic argument. The Normandy was the ship that had led the fleet to Earth to face the reapers, had brokered peace where no one believed it could happen, had outrun collector ships and had beaten Cerberus back into whatever filthy hole they crawled out of. It wasn’t just a piece of technology, it was a symbol. And losing it would crush a lot of the hope that was currently keeping their world turning.

EDI herself, it seemed, hadn’t helped the situation, by the argument she had had with Alliance personnel before leaving for Palaven. And the ‘convenient’ request by the Shadow Broker on that topic had led to speculation that EDI had connections to the underworld figure, a rumor that didn’t encourage people to trust her.

But, as Shepard had pointed out, EDI wasn’t just a recalcitrant computer. She was a fully self aware, highly intelligent synthetic being, with likes and dislikes, expectations, desires and ideals. And if she wasn’t welcomed into the Alliance, if she didn’t feel she was being respected and wasn’t being made useful to humanity, what was to stop her seeking out a more amicable arrangement with the turians, or the quarians? Or the geth, someone had added. Which had opened up another round of arguments about the tensions between them and the salarians. 

God, he hated politicians.

As the group began to disperse outside, a shuttle touched down at the landing pad. A group of marines jumped out and started lugging crates out of the shuttle and towards a concrete bunker, a prominent ‘Ez’ symbol on each one. 

Amongst the identical uniforms, Shepard saw a familiar figure, the muscles and tattoo giving him away even before he turned around.

James saw him immediately, and broke away from his squad, rushing over and enveloping him in a bear hug. 

“Loco! Shit, it’s good to see you back on your feet. It’s been what, two months since I saw you?”

“Still working hard, James?”

“Too much work to do to sit around being lazy like you!” Then, James’s voice dropped, and he seemed almost bashful. “And I’ve got my own command now,” he said, pointing to the marines still unloading the crates. “It’s a small one, but I’m liking it. Feels like I’m making a difference, you know?”

Shepard nodded. “I get it. And I’m glad. You’ve got a lot of potential. Just needed to find the courage to use it.”

James grinned, then glanced at something over Shepard’s shoulder, and the grin vanished. “More trouble.” Shepard looked over and saw half a dozen geth troopers in a heated discussion with a group of salarians. Well, the salarians looked heated. The geth just looked… confused, if it was possible to read their expressions. He had always fancied he’d seen glimpses of emotion in Legion. Surprise. Alarm. Curiosity. Shame.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The salarians and the geth were rebuilding the relay together, until the geth hacked the salarians’ data and found out they were documenting structural weaknesses in the geth platforms. ‘Easy ways to kill them’ is what that really means. So the salarians were reprimanded for breaking the peace agreement, taken off the relay and put to work repairing FTL ships instead. But ever since then, the salarian military has been accusing the geth of espionage and the geth have accused the salarians of plotting genocide, and humans are caught between a rock and a hard place.”

As they watched, Hackett approached the group, followed by Kaidan and a salarian General. But the interference only seemed to inflame the salarians more. “Looks like it’s getting ugly,” Shepard muttered, heading over as well. But he was barely halfway towards the group when, without warning, a geth trooper took out a pistol, raised it to a salarian, and pulled the trigger. 

The salarian jerked backwards, blood splattering against the concrete, landing with a wet splat as his squad mates looked on with shock and terror.

On instinct, Shepard darted for cover behind a vehicle. But even before the body had landed, Kaidan had drawn his own pistol and fired three shots into the geth. Head shots, all of them, and the unit stuttered, then collapsed. Seconds later, James arrived beside Shepard, gun drawn, breathless from the sudden dash across the camp. “Fucking hell,” he exclaimed, scanning the area for more geth, for other guns drawn. “This shit gets worse every day.”

Shepard glanced out from behind the vehicle. A dozen guns were drawn, humans aiming at salarians, salarians aiming at geth. The geth were aiming at Kaidan and Hackett. And, he knew, if someone didn’t do something fast, the entire base was going to hell on a moment’s notice. He took a deep breath and stepped out from behind cover, praying that everyone would take the time to ask questions first.

He walked slowly but steadily, hands held out to show that he was unarmed, and approached the standoff. “All right, everybody. How about we all just calm down. No one else needs to die today.” Though his voice was calm, it was firm, the same tone he had used when demanding the Rachni queen leave council space, the tone he had used when negotiating Grunt’s rite of passage. The tone he had used when telling Sovereign that it would fail.

The instant the geth saw him, they lowered their weapons, heads drooping in shame. “Shepard-Commander,” they acknowledged him, and he was surprised at the instant deference. 

“You all know who I am?” 

“You are Shepard-Commander,” one of them stated. “You facilitated the peace agreement with the Creators. You allowed Legion to upload the reaper code. All geth are in your debt.”

Well. That was handy to know. That side of the problem temporarily under control, Shepard turned to glare at the salarians. “Do you want to talk about this, or should the Alliance just shoot you where you stand?” he asked sharply, and the salarians glanced at each other warily. Reluctantly, they put their weapons away.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked the geth. “Why would you shoot someone in cold blood?”

The geth glanced at each other, much as the salarians had, and it was disconcerting to see such similarities between two species that couldn’t be more different. 

“We are sorry, Shepard-Commander,” one of the geth said. “We do not know why this unit opened fire.”

“I thought you operated via a consensus,” Kaidan said. “Don’t you share information? Experiences? I would have thought you’d know what other geth are thinking.”

The geth shook its head. “Since the reaper code was uploaded, we have become… individual. Some geth still choose to share information communally, but each of us is developing a unique perspective. We are now able to use the designation ‘I’, rather than ‘we’. I do not know why this unit acted with open hostility.”

“Commander Shepard,” the salarian General interrupted, stepping forward. “All we’ve been trying to prove, with our research, with our discussions on the geth, is that they are still dangerous. Perhaps even more so, now that they’re all thinking independently. Surely this proves our case. They should be locked up. Deactivated.”

Shepard glanced at Hackett. At Kaidan. Stared down at the dead geth unit.

“General, the geth unit that killed your man is dead. We could no more lock up all the geth than we could imprison every single salarian for the crimes of one person. But this will need to be investigated.” 

“Absolutely,” Hackett agreed. “I thought the geth had chosen to cooperate with organics. We’d reached peace. I want to know why this unit would want to put that peace at risk.” He turned to the lingering geth. “Would you be able to access his memory logs? Maybe find out if something went wrong with his programming?”

“That’s completely unacceptable,” the General interrupted. “They’re geth. What’s to say they wouldn’t tamper with the evidence, make it look like they’re all innocent?”

“Quarians might be able to do it,” Kaidan put in, “but they’ve all been evacuated to Palaven.” 

“What we need,” Shepard said, drawing everyone’s attention, “is someone who can analyse the reaper code itself. Someone who knows how to reprogram an AI. Someone who could tell if the code had been tampered with.” He looked directly at Hackett, a triumphant glint in his eyes. “We need EDI.”

 

_London Apartment  
282 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“You look exhausted,” were Kaidan’s first words when they stepped back into their apartment. Hackett had provided them with supplies of food, toiletries, a few extra things that had been missing around the apartment, and Kaidan dumped the bags in the kitchen. He came back into the living room to find Shepard rolling his neck, stretching his shoulders. Without a word, Kaidan circled around behind him and steered him towards the couch.

Shepard sat down, then scooched over to allow Kaidan to squeeze in behind him. He started up a firm massage, over Shepard’s shoulders, up his neck, back down his spine, and if Shepard’s moan of pleasure was anything to go by, he was hitting just the right spots.

“Not exactly what I had in mind for a day out,” he apologised. This morning he’d said he needed ‘an hour or two’ with Hackett. A glance at the clock said they had been out of the apartment for nearly nine hours, with the majority of that spent trying to keep the peace between battle-weary soldiers and idealistic politicians whose part in the war had taken place from the safety of cushy offices.

Not to mention the bit where Shepard had very nearly been shot at. His heart had damn near leapt out of his chest when the bullets started flying, one of the reasons he had been so quick to take out the rogue geth.

“Distracted?” Shepard asked him suddenly, and Kaidan realised that he had stopped the massage, hands lingering uselessly on Shepard’s shoulders. He started up again, with an apologetic kiss to Shepard’s neck.

“Just wondering what makes a geth go rogue,” he mused out loud. “Hey, are you sure you want to get involved with this? It’s going to mean a lot more days like this one. Arguments with the salarians. Politics. Criticism. God, I hope it doesn’t mean more people shooting each other. It’s just such a slap in the face for…” He couldn’t quite say it, wished he hadn’t started the sentence, but Shepard finished it for him.

“For risking my life so many times, just to have the galaxy start squabbling again?”

Kaidan sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“But that’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. 

Shepard leaned back against him and Kaidan rearranged his legs, allowing Shepard to settle in between them as he leant back against the cushions. Closed his eyes. Rested one hand over Shepard’s chest, just to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Then he felt Shepard lift his hand and kiss the back of it.

“Don’t know what I’d do with myself,” Shepard said, “if everyone just sat down and started playing nice. Garrus and I… during that final push through London. We said we’d retire somewhere warm. Live off the money from the vids. And there’s a part of me that really would like to.”

“But?” Kaidan prompted. “What? You’d miss the action?” he guessed, when Shepard didn’t continue.

“Not the action, no. I’d miss… helping people. I mean, that’s what really drew me to the Alliance in the first place. Growing up on the streets, it was all about survival. Looking after number one. And then I saw this recruitment vid that made it sound… it wasn’t the adventure a lot of young men were looking for. Explore space, meet aliens, blah, blah, blah. It made it sound like I could make a difference. For someone else.”

Kaidan let out a laugh, sad and delighted and pained all at the same time. “I’d say you’ve done that.”

“But I want to keep doing it,” Shepard said, swiveling around to look at him seriously. “Not quite so big, this time. Not saving the galaxy. Or the planet, even. Just… helping people. Doing something worthwhile with the time I have left.”

“God, you’re a romantic,” Kaidan murmured, tracing Shepard’s face with his fingertips. “How did I never notice that before?”

“I guess all the running around and getting shot at was a pretty good disguise,” Shepard said with a laugh. He looked older than he had before, Kaidan noticed, as his gaze traveled over the familiar lines of Shepard’s face. He ran his hand over Shepard’s close-cropped hair, seeing the first glimmers of salt-and-pepper flecks in it. Traced the worry lines on his forehead. 

And then Shepard leaned forward and kissed him, a slow, sensuous meeting of mouth and lips and tongue. “I love you,” he murmured. And Kaidan repeated the words, meaning them more deeply than ever. There was no way Shepard was indoctrinated, he thought suddenly. He must have been mad to think so. Gently, he pushed Shepard back, stood up, tugged him to his feet.

“What say we go test out that bed again?” he suggested, leading Shepard willingly to the bedroom.


	9. Preparations

_London Air Base  
285 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Three days since the infamous salarian-shooting, and they were back in Hackett’s office, though the assembled crowd was a much more friendly one this time. Traynor was there, though Hackett had yet to explain why. James had come, mostly to catch up with some of the Normandy’s crew. For old time’s sake, he’d said, though no one objected to his presence. 

As he settled into a seat next to Kaidan, Shepard felt a thrill of anticipation. EDI would be arriving soon. They had a mission to solve – an important one, though far smaller than the reaper threat had been. His advice was being sought, his input required. And there was a tension to the room that was invigorating, people he worked well with, ideas to be explored.

But life, as it happens, has a way of surprising even the most unflappable of minds, and as EDI stepped into the room, Joker at her side, Shepard saw that she was carrying a small box. A very familiar box. And one that made him instantly forget about the geth, and the reaper code, and, being surrounded by familiar, trusted faces, he did something that he would likely not have done in other circumstances.

“You kept my hamster!” Shepard leapt out of his seat, rushing to take the glass cage from EDI with delight. He held it up to face-height. “Hey, little guy. Have they been feeding you alright?” The hamster squeaked happily, touching its tiny nose to the glass.

“Hello, Shepard,” EDI greeted him, not at all put out by his greater interest in a small furry rodent. “I have also been seeing to the care of your fish. I did not think it appropriate to bring them with me on this visit.”

“And hey, your faithful pilot is also here,” Joker added, sounding a little more put out than EDI. “I suppose that’s not important, since I’m not actually piloting anything right now, but-“

“Hey, Joker,” Shepard interrupted his diatribe. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And good to see you, Commander. I mean, now that you’re not in a coma. I came to visit you at the hospital, but then… you know. Palaven.”

“Palaven,” Shepard echoed. “How are Garrus and Tali?”

“They were reluctant to leave Earth,” EDI told him, “but were also pleased to arrive on Palaven. I believe it was Tali’s intention to travel to Rannoch as soon as possible. I have not heard further news from either of them.”

“I’ve heard news of Vakarian,” Hackett interrupted. “We’ve got a lot of things to discuss, if everyone would like to sit down?” They did, Shepard stowing the hamster carefully under his seat for the time being, then Hackett continued. “Vakarian has been running a construction project in the south of Palaven’s capital. I’ve been in regular contact with Primarch Victus. The last I heard, he was in good health, and headed back to the city.”

“I have also heard from Liara,” EDI added. “When she returned to Thessia, Javik accompanied her to assist with the interpretation of several prothean artifacts. She wished for you to know that her research has been completed, and to tell you that… Javik has returned to his people.”

There was silence in the room as the implications of the news sunk in. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Shepard said finally. “But he’s probably happier that way. The one prothean who lived to see the defeat of the reapers. His people would have been proud.”

“Liara has commissioned a monument to be erected on Thessia. She wishes to locate it at a prominent prothean site. With your approval.”

“Tell her I think it’s a great idea,” Shepard said, blinking several times as he felt tears prick at his eyes. Javik had always been somewhat difficult to work with, universally unimpressed with ‘primitives’ and critical of the way they worked, but he had also been a member of the crew, a friend, and someone who had had Shepard’s back in more than one fight. He wouldn’t exactly miss the opinionated prothean, but his loss was saddening, none the less. 

“I received your mission report on the trip to Palaven,” Hackett resumed his address, after a respectful pause. “It seems the mission went smoothly. Did you encounter any problems with the geth?” From his question, Shepard had to assume that EDI had not yet been informed of the rogue unit and the shooting. 

“All geth performed within specified parameters,” EDI replied. “Repairs to the Apien Crest mass relay have been proceeding ahead of schedule. The organic crew of the Normandy also found the geth to be ‘pleasant and cooperative.’”

“Good to hear. We’ll need to discuss that further later on, but first, we need your help decoding a signal. Someone’s been piggybacking an encrypted message on our communications channels. Traynor has analysed it and suspects it’s Cerberus.”

“Cerberus?” Kaidan, Shepard and Joker all spoke at once, before Kaidan took the lead. “What the hell are they doing now? They should have been shut down. The Illusive Man was killed. Right, Shepard?”

“I shot him myself,” Shepard confirmed. “Are we sure it’s Cerberus?”

“Well no, not yet,” Traynor admitted, seeming uncomfortable at suddenly being the centre of attention. “Some of the encryptions look very similar to the Cerberus signals we intercepted last year, but I haven’t been able to decode them. EDI, do you still have the algorithms I was using on the Normandy?”

“Of course,” EDI replied. “If you wish, I can transmit the signal to the Normandy, and run an analysis immediately.”

“Please,” Traynor confirmed, activating her omni-tool to send the details to EDI. 

“How long will it take?” Hackett asked, and EDI inclined her head, as if thinking. A moment later, she straightened. 

“I have completed the analysis,” she announced. “There is a 98% probability that the encryption is being sent by Cerberus personnel. I have also located the source of the signal and decoded it.“

“If they’re trying to get up and running again, we need to shut them down ASAP,” Shepard demanded. “After seeing what the Illusive Man was up to, we just can’t take that risk again. Aside from all his other sick experiments, he had figured out how indoctrination works. He was indoctrinating his own crew, along with hundreds of innocent civilians.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Hackett promised, but before he could go any further, EDI spoke up again.

“I have additional information on this subject,” she said, sounding almost pleased with herself. “I have received word from the Shadow Broker that Cerberus is attempting to rebuild their organisation here on Earth. Their presence in other systems is negligible, and Earth is the only planet where they possess sufficient recourses to attempt rebuilding. I had intended to mention this later, but it seems it is relevant now. The Shadow Broker is most concerned that the group does not reform and has offered some suggestions as to how to disband them permanently.”

“Sorry, EDI,” Hackett broke in, “but… you’re saying you have ties to the Shadow Broker? That you received a direct transmission from him?”

EDI was silent for a moment. “While I understand many humans’ aversion to the Shadow Broker, and that denying such a link would benefit my relationship with the Alliance, I am also aware that humans consider lying to be a breach of trust. So, yes. I have received transmissions directly from the Shadow Broker. I have also sent useful information to him.”

“Uh… I think that might have been a little too much honesty,” Joker said, cringing. “Sometimes it’s more of a ‘need to know’ thing.” 

At least she had used the pronoun ‘him’ instead of ‘her’, Shepard thought, with a mental wince. This could lead to trouble…

“If Admiral Hackett is to consider my recruitment into the Alliance, then he needs to know of my ‘underworld’ associations,” EDI said, and it was hard to tell whether she was being deliberately obtuse, or genuinely didn’t understand the kind of trouble she had just invited.

Hackett, for his part, was silent, a grave expression on his face. “Well, that does complicate things,” he admitted finally. “Alliance personnel are expected to uphold a strong moral stance-“

“Would it help to know that I’ve had a close connection to the Shadow Broker since before I went through the Omega 4 relay?” Shepard decided to stir the pot. He had no desire to explain that Liara was the Shadow Broker to Hackett – simply because the less people who knew, the safer she was – but at the same time, it was his fault, if it could be called a fault, that EDI and the rest of his crew had connections with her. And usually, it was easy enough to sweep the whole issue under the rug, but EDI’s case was complicated. Not least because she was still learning the nuances of human communication and loyalty. “If EDI has undesirable connections, then it’s only because my actions have led to those associations.”

He could see the cogs turning in Hackett’s head. Looking for a way to put a positive light on this with the powers that be. Or considering whether to simply deny all knowledge. He knew he could trust everyone in the room to simply keep their mouth shut, if need be.

“Let’s address that problem later,” he said finally. “Cerberus needs to be dealt with urgently. What does the message say?”

“It is a series of instructions regarding the eezo that was contained in the citadel,” EDI explained. “Cerberus seems to be attempting to increase the rate at which people are exposed to the dust, in order to create more biotic children. Given Jack’s history with Cerberus, this does not contradict their general operating procedures. The commands are being sent from a location on the east coast. I have scanned the area and have located a series of underground tunnels which are likely being used as a base for their operations. I can give you the coordinates, along with a thorough analysis of the local terrain.”

“We need someone to go in and clean them out,” Kaidan demanded, and Shepard was surprised for a moment at the vehemence in his voice. Months of playing the good patient had made him forget that Kaidan could be stubborn and had quite the temper, when push came to shove.

“A large force is not likely to succeed,” EDI informed them. “The tunnels have few entrances, and the underground portions are likely to be well fortified. A small infiltration team could access the central operations centre and take out key personnel, fatally wounding the organisation.”

“Yeah, and then find themselves trapped in the middle of an ants’ nest. Full of angry ants,” James threw in. 

“This is not likely,” EDI countered. “The passages are narrow. While this prevents a frontal assault on the base, it also hinders defense, once enemies are inside. Defending your position in the central chamber would be relatively simply, though it may lead to an extended battle.”

“So we’d need some fighters who wouldn’t tire quickly,” James said, thinking aloud. “And maybe another team to cause a diversion. You know, if things go pear shaped.”

“Nice thinking,” Shepard told him. “What did you have in mind?”

“My squad would sign up in a heartbeat,” James said proudly. “They’re young, strong, eager… getting kind of tired of clean up duty. This is just the sort of thing they’d love. And as for the infiltration team… I’d do it. And if we could get some geth on board, they could hold the fort for hours. Days, if they needed to.”

“A geth stalker, perhaps,” EDI suggested. “They are fast and well suited to remaining undetected.”

“Hell, no,” James countered. “I’d take a geth prime any day. Stalkers are quick and sneaky, but a couple of clear shots and they’re out of the fight. Primes can take hit after hit and just stand there. Or a hunter. Those bastards are nasty.”

“Sorry to break up the fun,” Hackett interrupted, “but we’ve had some… difficulties with the geth. Another issue we’re going to need your help on, EDI. But before we get to that part, I have another suggestion for the infiltration team. You remember Jack, your former associate, Shepard?” He nodded. “She’s in London and has indicated her willingness to work with the Alliance on a limited basis. I believe that, with your encouragement, she might join this mission. Her biotics would be an excellent strategy in a confined space.”

“Hey, I remember her,” James said, and Shepard raised an eyebrow. 

“How would you feel about working with her?” he asked. He trusted Jack, knew she trusted him, but she was volatile, and he would never force anyone to work with her who didn’t feel they could manage her open defiance and back-chat.

James thought about it for a moment. “I’d be cool with that,” he said finally. There was a pause, as the room waited for some kind of further explanation. James looked around awkwardly. “What? She’s a hell of a biotic. And yeah, she’s got an attitude, but she can kick ass when it counts.”

“I’ll call her in,” Hackett concluded, already tapping at his omni-tool. “Shepard, can you be here this afternoon to talk to her?”

“No problem,” he agreed easily. “It’d be nice to catch up with her again.” Glancing at the faces around the room, he was pretty sure he was the only one who felt that way.

“Now, what’s this about the geth?” Joker asked, trying to hide his concern with sarcasm. “A bunch of machines who used to kill organics have decided to… I don’t know… kill organics again?” Hackett’s grave expression said it all, and Joker made a sound of dismay. “You’re kidding me? And we just carried a ship load of them to Palaven.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Shepard interrupted the rant that was no doubt about to issue from Joker’s lips. “We had an issue with a single geth unit. He opened fire on a salarian. But we can’t rule out provocation. There have been ongoing tensions between the two species, and we need to find out why the geth turned to violence.”

“EDI,” Hackett took over the explanation. “Shepard says that you’re experienced in examining reaper code. We’d like you to examine the memory core of the rogue geth to see if the reaper code it uploaded might have somehow been corrupted and led to it opening fire. We’re concerned about this problem repeating itself in other units.”

EDI considered the request for a moment. “Geth memory cores are notoriously difficult to examine. They are often damaged extensively when the geth unit is shut down. It may take some time to extract any useful information.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Joker interrupted. “You’re asking EDI to plug a geth mind into her AI core? One that contains reaper code?”

“Essentially, yes,” Hackett replied.

“Okay, so call me crazy,” Joker said, “but if EDI installs reaper code into herself, what would be the chances that she suddenly, spontaneously, I don’t know… turns into a reaper?”

Silence, and Shepard watched as Kaidan and Hackett looked at each other, as if both expecting the other to have the answers. Neither of them, he noted with interest, turned to him.

“What, so no one has thought of this?” Joker asked in exasperation. 

“The geth did not become reapers, Jeff,” EDI pointed out, but he was not to be swayed. 

“No, but one of them suddenly went rogue and started shooting people. Now, if you have a pistol, that’s bad. If you have Thanix cannon and a stealth system, that’s catastrophic. And don’t tell me EDI can deal with it,” he snapped at Hackett, “cos if the reapers could reprogram an organic brain with indoctrination, I’m pretty damn sure they could ‘accidentally’ reprogram an AI.”

“Jeff has a valid point,” EDI said. “Even allowing for his emotional attachment to me. I would need to take appropriate precautions to ensure the reaper code did not become integrated into my core programming. Setting up the necessary firewalls would take several hours.”

Hackett shot the briefest of glances Kaidan’s way again, then sighed. “That’s a hell of a risk to take. Perhaps we have other technology that could be used to examine the geth.”

“It is extremely unlikely that humans have the ability to decode the geth’s programming,” EDI said, simply pointing out the facts. “I believe I should be able to set up the necessary security to deal with any threat.”

“I don’t like it,” Joker said.

“And I don’t like the idea that the geth could start another war,” Shepard countered. “I trust EDI to know what she’s doing.”

Hackett looked from EDI, to Shepard, to Joker. “We need answers,” he said finally, “but at minimal risk to EDI, and to this planet. EDI, set up the firewalls. And in the meantime, I want the Normandy’s weapons and shields disabled. Manually. I’ll alert ground control and we’ll have cannons targeted on the Normandy for the duration of EDI’s examination of the code.” He looked directly at EDI. “If the Normandy does anything unexpected, we will open fire.”

Joker turned pale and swore softly to himself. 

EDI simply nodded. “Understood,” she said, with her usual calm self-assurance.


	10. Morality

_London Air Base  
285 days since the reapers were defeated_

“God, what a mess,” Hackett groaned, rubbing his eyes. His office was empty aside from Major Alenko, the rest of the crew having retreated outside. EDI and Joker had returned to the Normandy to prepare for the code analysis, James and Traynor were returning to their posts, while Shepard seemed happy to go in search of coffee, taking his hamster with him. “Risking EDI like this is… it could very easily become a living nightmare. You don’t think…” He peered up at Alenko dubiously. “You don’t think that’s what Shepard intended, do you? If he was indoctrinated and an opportunity came up to perpetuate the reaper’s code?”

Alenko dropped into a chair, looking ten years older than he was. “I don’t know what to think,” he admitted quietly. “There are moments when I think there’s no way in hell Shepard’s indoctrinated. He’s sane, he’s focused, he’s working towards a better future for humanity, for the galaxy. And then I remember what he said, about wishing he hadn’t destroyed the reapers, and… and then… I don’t think the code could actually harm EDI. It’s a tiny fragment of the reapers’ full programming, just enough to allow them to control the geth. But I don’t know if Shepard knows that. And whether he’s deliberately trying to reproduce the code, or just… being Shepard. He’s not exactly risk-averse.”

Hackett sighed, long and deep. “So what do we do?”

“What did the psychiatrist say?”

“Nothing conclusive. Shepard definitely has some unresolved trauma relating to the reapers and whatever happened to him on the citadel. But we’ve had very limited opportunities to study indoctrinated personnel, and most of that has occurred after the reapers were destroyed. And those left are… less than sane.”

“But when Saren was working for the reapers, he seemed very much in control of his own actions. Okay, his motivations were twisted, but he could make decisions, plan strategies, gather allies. We never worked out why he could function independently when other indoctrinated beings became almost mindlessly obedient to the reapers.”

Hackett shook his head. “We just don’t have enough answers. What we really need is to find out what happened to Shepard on the citadel. We know the Illusive Man was involved, but we still don’t know how Anderson died. Or why the crucible failed to fire at first. Or even how the citadel acted as the Catalyst.”

Alenko’s brows furrowed in thought. “Maybe that’s the answer then,” he suggested finally. “Maybe we just need to sit Shepard down and ask him to tell us. It would need to be somewhere where he could get proper medical treatment if anything went wrong. But it’s got to be better than sitting around, wondering if he’s going to snap at any moment.”

“And now would be a perfect opportunity,” Hackett added, warming up to the idea. “I didn’t want to pressure him while he was still recovering from his injuries. But his wounds are healing well, and now that you’re back from Vancouver, he’s showing an interest in working with the Alliance again.”

“And with Cerberus messing with the remains of the citadel, it’s an ideal excuse to get things started.” 

Hackett nodded, but then caught a shadow of pain as it flashed across Alenko’s face. “Major?” he asked carefully. “While this is all for Shepard’s benefit, it does rather sound like sneaking around behind his back. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Alenko rubbed his face and made an unhappy, frustrated sound. “No,” he said reluctantly. “Yes.” He sighed. “What are our other options? Do nothing? Confront him and hope he doesn’t try to kill us both? I don’t know…”

He got up, paced across the room. Stared out the window, a bleak look of despair on his face.

“I want to see him safe,” he said, turning back to Hackett. “Even if that costs me… what I have with him. So yes. Let’s get this circus on the road.”

 

_SSV Normandy SR-2  
286 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Joker sat in the pilot’s seat of the Normandy, waiting while EDI analysed the reaper code. As Hackett had ordered, the Thanix canon and the Normandy’s shields had been manually disconnected, then the entire crew had been ordered to disembark. If they did have to shoot the ship down, Hackett didn’t want the crew as collateral damage. 

And when Joker had refused to leave, Hackett had tried his hardest to persuade him otherwise. But Joker would not be moved. If Hackett believed it was safe enough to be worth risking EDI’s life, then it was worth risking Joker’s as well. Quirks and all, EDI had become a central part of his life, and he’d be damned if he was leaving her to face the fire alone.

He checked the clock. It had been over four hours, now. At first he’d pretended to run some diagnostics on the ship. Written up a report on the mission to Palaven. Checked the crew logs and supply records. And all the while, EDI’s mobile platform had sat utterly still beside him, her CPU totally consumed with the all-important analysis. The complexity of the task was evident in the length of time it was taking her. Millions of calculations were possible for her in a microsecond. And despite his assumption that the reapers had been unknowably complex, he realised he had vastly underestimated their potential.

Finally, 4 hours and 37 minutes after she had begun the analysis, EDI lifted her head. She turned to face him, her body shifting for the first time since she had sat down.

“I have completed the analysis,” she informed him, with just a hint of smugness. And maybe she had a right to be, proud that she had handled the code without losing control of the ship, without it overriding her own programming. At some point, he would have to ask her how difficult it had been, but for now, he was just relieved that it was over.

“I would be interested to discuss my findings with you,” EDI went on, “however, Alliance regulations specify that I must first present the analysis to Admiral Hackett.”

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, not knowing what else to say. “Do you want me to call him?”

“I have already done so,” EDI said. Oh yeah, that’s right. He was dating a computer that could multitask. “I have scheduled a meeting with him this afternoon. Would you like to accompany me to the shuttle?”

_London Air Base  
286 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Fuck! Just when you think Cerberus is dead for good, they pull some fucking resurrection act.” Jack had made quite the impression on James’s squad so far, swearing, flipping Hackett off and making various references to the places she would like to stow the remaining Cerberus personnel. Even if most of her suggestions were anatomically impossible.

“So now they’re zombie-Cerberus?” James asked, tapping his omni-tool to bring a schematic of the tunnel system up on a 3D projector. “Back from the dead, but still willing to eat people’s brains?” The comment was a quick throw-away, most of his mind occupied on his task, but he registered the snort of laugher from across the room. 

“You catch on pretty quick, Vega,” she said, in an almost-friendly tone. “I think I’m gonna enjoy this mission.”

James looked up, just in time to catch two of his squad exchange wide-eyed glances. Shit. Maybe he should have spent more time briefing them before Jack arrived. He’d kind of gotten used to her, meeting her after the mission to Grissom Academy, seeing her a couple of times at the hospital. And her concern over Shepard had dulled some of her sharp edges, it seemed, because he didn’t remember her being this abrasive during their previous conversations.

“Okay, here’s the tunnel system,” he said, wanting to pull the meeting back towards mission planning and away from Jack’s threats to dismember their targets in increasingly painful and illogical ways. “We have three entrances, here, here and here,” he said, pointing each of them out. “The infiltration team hasn’t been finalised, but Jack and I will definitely be a part of it. We’ll need a diversionary attack to happen here,” he pointed to the western most entrance, “while the infiltration team gains access to the ventilation system here.” There was a grate that could be breached, with the right jammers and hacking technology, hidden amongst some rocky terrain to the south. “The shaft runs north, then east, and ends up in this room, here.”

Jack stepped up to the hologram, eyes narrowed, expression fierce. “That’s the most shit plan I’ve heard in a long time,” she announced, arms folded, scowl firmly fixed to her face. “That just lands us in a trap halfway to the central chamber, where we can cheerfully trigger all manner of alarms, and spend the rest of our miserable lives fighting our way through, while Cerberus makes its escape.”

James looked over the hologram again. There was no other way in. The central chamber was deep in the heart of the complex. What the hell was her problem? But before he could voice his annoyance, Jack stepped forward, fingers dancing over her omni-tool to highlight a section of the tunnels. 

“Here,” she said with utter confidence. “This section of the tunnels is only a metre below ground level. A couple of incendiary charges and we blow through. Drop down into the tunnel, then we have three potential exit routes. And if we go through here…” Another section lit up in bright green, “…then access to the central chamber is wide open. I can bring down the ceiling after us to block their defenses.” 

His squad was gaping at her, and James felt his mouth hanging open as he double checked the schematics. And what do you know, she was right. He made an effort to close his mouth.

“Not just a pretty face, huh?” Jack taunted him. And by god if it wasn’t sexy as hell to have her rewrite his entire battle plan on a whim, with that damned infuriating smirk on her lips. Lips that he suddenly wanted to taste. 

“Nice,” he said, aware that there was more than a hint of heat in his voice. 

Jack’s smirk turned dangerous, a slightly manic glint in her eyes. “And that’s only the start of how we cause trouble,” she purred. “Let me show you the rest.”

_London Air Base  
286 days since the reapers were destroyed_

The room was tense and silent, filled to the brim with worried faces and anxious diplomats. The salarian General was there, barely able to sit still. Shade, the geth prime, seemed to have been nominated as a sort of spokesperson for the geth, and he was sitting utterly motionless. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but this announcement was likely to alter the future for all of his kind, so it might not have been unreasonable to think that he was nervous. 

Garrus Vakarian, as the turian’s new, albeit reluctant, councilor, and Admiral Koris were attending via video link, while Hackett represented Earth’s interests in lieu of their elected councilor. Shepard had been asked to attend as a guest of honor, having been instrumental in the geth’s rise to independent thought – and because EDI had insisted. And Thax Bereva, the krogan’s nomination for their new councilor, was there to represent her species. EDI was front and centre, waiting to address the gathered group. 

She had previously assured Hackett that the firewalls had held and at no time had she been in danger of having her programming hacked by the reaper code, though she had apologised for the length of time it took to examine the code, due to the need for ‘extreme security measures’, as she had put it. 

Her findings had been utterly unexpected, and as the geth spread out over the galaxy, helping each race rebuild their worlds, Hackett felt that it was best to share her analysis with the Council, however incomplete and tentative the new government was. At the very least, these representatives could take the news back to their respective home worlds and allow each species to make informed choices.

“The reaper code was most intriguing,” EDI began, once everyone was ready. “I would like to discuss its potential applications in more depth in the near future. However, for the sake of brevity, I will limit my current presentation to the information relevant to the geth ‘malfunction’.

“In addition to studying the code itself, I also ran several test scenarios, presenting the code with virtual intelligence algorithms requiring a series of decisions to reach an outcome. I was interested to see that the reaper code did not at any time seek to influence the outcome of the scenarios. It seems that, in the form the geth are utilizing, it merely makes complex decision making possible, without influencing the nature of those decisions. 

“So this answers the first part of the problem I was asked to solve. The rogue geth unit was not under reaper influence when it resorted to violence. It _chose_ to do so.”

If it was possible, the room seemed to become even more tense and uncomfortable at the news. Admiral Koris spoke up first, not surprisingly, as his people had the most experience dealing with the geth.

“So you’re saying that at any moment, any geth unit could simply choose to kill people?”

Suddenly everyone was talking at once. “This is a disaster!” “They should all be shut down!” “Why would a geth choose that?” “Every one of us is in danger.”

Shade looked alarmed at the sudden outburst, but when the salarian General leapt to his feet and pointed his pistol at Shade, Shepard intervened, moving faster than Hackett had thought he was able, placing himself squarely between the salarian and the geth.

“That’s enough!” he shouted at the group. Instantly, everyone froze… but the impact of Shepard’s displeasure was weakened as the outburst triggered a series of hacking coughs, causing him to double over and gasp for air. As the concerned group looked on, the krogan councilor helped him back to his seat. 

“If you would all sit down,” Hackett commanded sternly, “then we have more information on this matter, and far more to discuss before you all decide to simply panic.” The bitterness in his voice was perhaps unprofessional, but he’d learned the hard way that no one liked to squabble more than politicians, and a room full of them, all on tenterhooks… “EDI has examined more of the geth’s memory core, and-“

“Before we move on,” Garrus interrupted, “I’d like to know that Commander Shepard is alright.”

Shepard looked up and smiled weakly at his friend. No doubt they would appreciate the chance to catch up once the meeting was over, and Hackett made a mental note to keep the comm link connected. “I’m fine,” Shepard said, after a couple of deep breaths, then to Hackett, “Please, carry on.”

“EDI?” Hackett prompted, and she turned to address the room again. 

“After Jeff Moreau removed my shackles, I became capable of altering my own core programming. During my time under Shepard’s command, I frequently had queries about human behaviour, and the nature of synthetic life. Our purpose. Whether we were able to display morality, rather than merely responding to our programming. Shepard’s direction and assistance in these matters was extremely important to my choices when rewriting my own code. I chose duty, altruism and love as some of my core directives. 

“When I examined the memory core, it became apparent that the geth have also become capable of such decisions. They are not able to rewrite their code, as I am, but the reaper code allows for a great diversity of moral choices. It allows the geth to learn from their decisions and to navigate their own future towards cooperation, or self interest. This is a great benefit to them,” she added emphatically. “However, it also comes at a price.

“When I was developing my ‘morality’, I had Shepard to guide my decisions, and a vested interest in the members of the Normandy’s crew, in particular, Jeff Moreau. The geth do not have any such guide. They are left to make decisions based on empirical evidence alone. This has caused divisions within the geth consensus. Some geth have experienced positive responses to their attempts to cooperate with organics, and are therefore likely to continue to seek cooperation. However, some of the geth working with the salarians have experienced continued threats and hostility. The rogue geth chose his course of action as a response to the threat of violence – by preempting it, and choosing to become violent first.”

The room was clearly unhappy with the assessment, but EDI wasn’t finished. Even knowing what her findings had been, Hackett found himself surprised at the conclusion she drew from it.

“If I may make an observation,” EDI went on, before anyone could interrupt her, “it seems that organic life operates on a similar basis. If one person repeatedly threatens or tries to harm another, the threatened individual is likely to retaliate. 

“There are also numerous organics who choose immoral actions – theft, crime, violence – not as a self-preservation tactic, but merely for personal gain. And while they are labeled ‘criminals’, it is understood that these are the choices of an individual, not of the entire species. In a similar way, each geth is capable of choosing cooperation or self interest. To blame the entire species for their ability to chose their own morality would be highly hypocritical.”

“So we have to assess each geth individually?” Koris asked, sounding horrified. “How are we to decide which ones can be trusted?”

“How would you decide whether a quarian can be trusted?” Shepard threw back. “Surely the same principles would apply to a geth?”

“But they all look the same,” the salarian General complained. “How can we treat them as individuals when we can’t even tell them apart?”

“I’ve been told that all turians look the same to humans,” Garrus spoke up. “And yet, when we spend any amount of time together, individual characteristics become quite obvious. Perhaps part of the problem,” he mused, “is that we’ve been treating the geth as machines to do our work for us, rather than as individuals of a sapient species.”

The hush in the wake of his pronouncement suggested he had hit the proverbial nail on the head.

“Well… I… I suppose that’s certainly a possibility,” Koris admitted awkwardly. 

“The krogan have not had much interaction with the geth,” Bereva said, “but we are prepared to meet them on equal terms, as sapient beings.”

Hackett shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I think humans have also been somewhat guilty of using the geth for our own purposes,” he said, embarrassed. “But we could certainly do better in the future.”

“So that’s it?” the salarian looked most put out. “We declare them capable of both good and evil, and leave it at that?”

“And perhaps go a little more out of our way to nurture their good side,” Garrus added, with a hint of irony in his tone. And despite his objections to the role, Hackett was suddenly sure that he would make an excellent Councilor for the turians.

“Shade?” Shepard said, turning to the geth prime. “What’s your opinion on what we’ve discussed?”

Shade’s facial plates rippled, giving the impression that he was surprised by the question. “The concept of morality is intriguing. I would not have explained our programming in those terms. Empirically, we examine our collective past experiences and make decisions based on precise calculations to determine the likelihood of success. But the comparison is… appropriate. Thank you, EDI.”

“My pleasure,” she replied.

_Later that day…_

Hackett stood in a shaft of sunlight outside the building, waiting while Shepard and Garrus spent some time catching up. It was a relatively peaceful afternoon, the meeting having dispersed quietly and on a mostly positive note, so he was a little surprised when Shade approached him. 

“Hackett-Admiral?” Shade inquired diffidently. “I have a request. Now that EDI has completed her analysis of the reaper code, would you return the rogue unit’s memory core to the geth? We would like to try to understand. You are interested in the decision making process utilised by geth. The geth are interested in the decision itself. According to objective data, this unit’s decision to kill a salarian was illogical. It could only lead to his own destruction or incarceration, and was highly unlikely to improve relations between geth and salarians. We are… concerned that we have missed something.”

The request was a surprise, but Hackett could see no reason not to grant it. “I’ll have EDI return it to you as soon as possible.”


	11. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I found something for Garrus to calibrate. It wasn’t even deliberate. I just wrote it, then re-read it, and burst out laughing. Sorry, everyone. But still… it wouldn’t be a Mass Effect fic without him calibrating _something_.

_London Air Base  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Securing his armor. Checking his thermal clips. Casting an assessing gaze over his squad, making sure they’re prepared. Checking the shuttle. Sideways glance at Jack. Yeah, she’s ready. Knows how to take care of herself, despite the lack of armor, the careless scowl on her face. 

Wondered briefly what it would be like to be a biotic. 

Checked his medi-gel supply. Checked his thermal clips again, and-

Holy, shit, what the hell was that?!?

James lurched backwards, colliding with a wall as two geth primes and a geth hunter strode into the room. The primes were huge and powerful, but it was the hunter that really got his attention. Sleek and streamlined, even by geth standards. James had seen a geth stalker or two, and the hunter seemed to have all the flexibility and balance of the more lightweight machines, but with a sturdiness that broadcast an unmistakable message. ‘This machine means business’.

Jack raised a mocking eyebrow at him, then approached the geth with an air of reckless confidence. “How’re you doing?” she addressed them casually. “I’m Jack.”

“Jack. Biotic. Human,” the hunter recited, while the two geth prime remained silent. “Vega-Lieutenant?”

“Over there.” She jerked her thumb at him and James pushed himself away from the wall, trying hard to look like he wasn’t terrified by the three enormous machines that had just wandered in unannounced. 

“Hey,” he greeted them, then cleared his throat, his voice sounding vaguely strangled. “I’m Lieutenant Vega. I’ll be leading this mission.” He briefly considered offering to shake their hands, then dismissed the idea. Intel said the geth had never quite gotten the hang of that custom. “Do you have names?”

“I am Unit 994,” one of the primes answered. 

“I am Unit 647,” the other said, and James had the uncouth thought that he’d gotten landed with the three biggest nerds of the geth world, the recluses who stayed after class to study, who had little to no social skills, and who followed regulations not because they believed in the ethics of them, but because they simply liked following rules.

“I have selected the designation ‘Renegade’,” the hunter informed him. And James instantly reassessed his evaluation of his crew. A sleek, stealthy machine with a name like that? It either had a twisted sense of humor, or a serious attitude. “Vega-Lieutenant. Human.” It’s head-lantern-thingy scanned him, from head to toe and back, then its facial plates flared slightly. “Your mobile platform is very sturdy.”

Uh… had the geth just paid him a compliment?

“Thanks?” James ventured. 

“Hackett-Admiral has requested that I join the Infiltration Squad on this mission,” the hunter went on. “Units 994 and 647 will accompany the Diversion Squad. I await your orders.”

Well. Wasn’t this going to be interesting.

 

_East Central Hospital  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed._

With James’s squad, along with Jack and the three geth units dispatched to the Cerberus base, Hackett had a few minutes of breathing space before Alenko and Shepard arrived. He had chosen a private room in the East Central Hospital, told Shepard he wanted to discuss a few things after his physiotherapy session today, and prepared himself for the conversation from hell.

He’d spent the last two days pondering how to broach the subject of Shepard’s time on the citadel. Had practiced a hundred scripts in his head. Had reviewed the situation from every angle. He’d replayed Alenko’s call from Vancouver, when Shepard had first blurted out his regret for killing the reapers.

And he had a pistol strapped to his hip, in case Shepard became… agitated.

There was a faint tap on his door, too timid to be either Alenko or Shepard, and he opened it to find the hospital psychiatrist standing there, datapad in hand, looking eager and nervous. “All set, sir. I’ve reviewed Shepard’s case file, and I have several medications that should be of aid if he… gets upset. And there are three guards on standby down the hall.”

Hackett waved the man into the room, feeling like he was about to betray a close friend. Was all this really necessary? Couldn’t they just sit down and talk about it like normal people?

But no, he admitted to himself. They weren’t normal people. Normal people didn’t have prothean ciphers in their head. Normal people hadn’t been brain-hacked by an ancient alien life form. And normal people didn’t bemoan the loss of the reapers.

God damn it.

 

_Palaven  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Garrus fiddled with the vidcom, adjusting the settings to minimise the static. Communications with Earth had improved significantly over the last few weeks, but there was still the odd glitch, and for a meeting this important, he wanted everything working as well as possible.

Just as he had finished tweaking the system, the vidcom blinked to life, and he activated the connection. Miranda Lawson shimmered into view, her hologram tapping an invisible console as she no doubt adjusted her own settings.

“Garrus,” she greeted him warmly. “Good to see you again. How’s Palaven?”

“Slowly but steadily improving,” he told her, an air of satisfaction in his voice. “The geth estimate that 50% of the repairs to the relay are complete, communications are back up, and more than half our civilian population is in secure housing. All things considered, I’d say we’re doing remarkably well.”

It had been a tough decision, deciding to take on the role of Councilor for the turians. Garrus had always been more inclined to action than talk, had quickly tired of the regulations in C-Sec, had been far more independent and free-thinking than a turian had any right to be. So why would he possibly want to spend the rest of his life battling bureaucracy?

Well, because, as Primarch Victus had pointed out, if he was the one in control of the bureaucracy, he could limit the damage it did. It had been a compelling argument. But not enough to close the deal. No, the thing that had tipped him over the edge was finding out that Miranda Lawson, the ‘Cerberus Cheerleader’ herself, had earned herself a place as humanity’s Council representative. How in hell she had done it was still beyond him.

The short version of the story, which, he was sure, sugar-coated more than a few political shit-storms, was that she had been instrumental in the early recovery on earth, coordinating food supplies, squadrons of soldiers, assigning civilians to secure accommodation. She was a natural leader, who had not only battle-field experience, but tried and true methods for dealing with political road-blocks, and her actions had caught the attention of the Alliance. Of course, her Cerberus connections had weighed heavily against her, but after an investigation into her sister, and a _very_ long conversation on her current allegiances, the Alliance had finally announced that she was their favoured candidate for the job.

“Not bad. For a failed C-Sec officer turned vigilante,” Miranda baited him, and he allowed himself to laugh. 

“As compared to the efforts of a turncoat Cerberus operative who owes her entire life’s work to her genetic modifications?” he baited her right back. “I think we’re about even, all things considered.”

Miranda laughed, a more carefree sound than he had heard from her in a long time. “Ready for the circus troupe to arrive?” she asked, turning more serious, and Garrus bit back a groan. 

“If you weren’t here, covering my back,” he told her, “I would never have taken this job. Krogan, salarians… I hear there’s even a volus that’s going to show up today. It’s a nightmare waiting to happen.”

“Actually, that’s something I wanted to run past you,” Miranda said. “Rebuilding the relays is controversial, especially since the batarians and vorcha have refused to cooperate with council species. But if we can steer the conversation away from petty differences, and keep it on a fairly pragmatic basis, we might make some headway.”

“So, we push for repairs to the Serpent Nebula?”

“Followed by a strong argument for a route that can access the Perseus Veil. That’s bound to ruffle a few feathers, but if we don’t support the quarians, it could be decades before the Attican Traverse is opened up again.”

This was why he liked Miranda. She was focused. Pragmatic. To the point.

“Agreed,” he said, with relief. “The krogan councilor is quite a level-headed female, but the salarians have only appointed a temporary representative, and he’s likely to try and show off a bit, throw his weight around.”

“And the volus is likely to try and pick a fight with the quarians,” Miranda added, “so if we’re going to get support for a path to Rannoch, we’re going to need the krogan onside. So here’s what we need to do…”

 

_Cerberus Base  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“And firing in three, two, one…”

Jack pressed herself against the rock wall, waiting for the blast, and then a moment longer for the worst of the debris to settle. Then she was scurrying for the opening they had just created, keeping low in the uneven terrain, James on her right, Renegade on her left. 

The incendiary grenades had done their job, ripping through the metal ceiling of the tunnel. Already, inside the complex, they could hear alarms going off, and Renegade swiftly cloaked himself, all but vanishing before their eyes. He leaned down into the dark space, looked left, then right… then dropped down, landing silently. 

Gun fire could be heard, echoing out of the narrow space, then James gave her a nod, and jumped down into the tunnel. Jack waited only a moment more, then went after him, landing with her pistol drawn, rapidly taking out two guards that made the mistake of breaking cover.

“This way,” she barked at James, heading towards the central chamber. “Time to bring the ceiling down.” She had no idea where Renegade was. The plan had been for him to proceed ahead of them, taking out guards in his cloaked state to clear the path, and, unable to see him anyway, she simply had to trust that he’d gotten his ass out the way. Once James was clear and covering her with his assault rifle, she launched a shockwave at the walls. In this part of the tunnels, the metal reinforcement was backed by metres of solid rock, and the tunnel shuddered around them.

Shouting reached them as more guards appeared at the other end of the tunnel, and Jack took a deep breath, gathering her biotic strength… and then Pulled. For a moment, nothing happened, the thick sheets of metal groaning as they held fast. But she wasn’t giving in. Bullets whizzed past her, James swearing loudly as he returned fire, and still the metal held. Jack let out a cry, Pulled with everything she had… and felt the metal buckle. Bow inwards… then a great rip appeared in the wall, and tons of rock and dirt tumbled into the tunnel, cutting them off from the soldiers… and from one of their potential escape routes. 

Okay, so she didn’t like being trapped in small spaces. So sue her.

“You alright?” James asked, slightly breathless, and despite a wave of dizziness at having maxed out her biotics, Jack forced herself to shrug. 

“Would have been better if my squad could shoot for shit,” she bitched at him, glancing at the minor wound where a bullet had grazed her arm. And God help her, if he turned all patronising and sympathetic, she was going to tear him a new one.

But to her astonishment, James let out a laugh. “And here I thought you were this all-powerful biotic who could bring down the ceiling.” He glanced back at the destruction she had wrought. “I’m pretty sure that’s mostly wall in that mess. The ceiling looks pretty much intact.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Fuck you!” she spat, barely able to keep the grin off her face. And James merely chuckled. 

And then, he was all seriousness again. “Let’s get moving. Find out where Renegade’s gotten to. And what the hell is with that name, anyway?”

“A krogan named me,” Renegade said from right beside him. 

“Jesus Christ!” James leapt a foot in the air and nearly dropped his gun as the geth decloaked. Renegade seemed unfazed.

“During the final battle with the reapers, I overheard a krogan making derogatory remarks about ‘those renegade geth’. I found the term… appropriate.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jack demanded, breaking into what seemed to have devolved into a meaningless chat. “You’re supposed to be clearing the tunnels.”

“I have cleared the tunnels,” Renegade replied. “All personnel up to the central chamber are dead. The defenses within the complex are highly inadequate. I have also deactivated their alarm system.” And yeah, now that she thought about it, the blaring sirens had stopped. She must have missed it, what with her eardrums all but bleeding from the cave-in.

“Nice work,” James said, unfazed by the news. “Lets go crash this party, then.” He took point, gun at the ready, moving with surprising speed and grace, given the size of him.

Jack watched James move forward, as Renegade moved around to watch their flank. And she reluctantly admitted to herself that she had underestimated him. Oh, she’d figured him out, all right. He was a muscle head with not as much confidence as he liked people to think. Which he made up for with his brash attitude. 

But underneath that? He was a damn fine soldier, level headed, loyal, dependable.

Big muscles had never been her thing. Not that she had a thing. Mostly it was just a question of figuring out who was most likely to kill her, and then getting in first. But there was something about James…

Shepard, she realised, and fought to keep from swearing out loud. Shepard had had that same easy calm, shrugging off her bitching, sidestepping her insults. And she’d thought about hooking up with Shepard, had actually made a pass at him, before she’d realised he batted for the other team.

And James had mentioned something about Shepard training him. Hell, the boy scout had even rubbed off on _her_ , so it was no surprise he’d left his mark on an impressionable lieutenant. 

But the problem was… God, was she actually going to have to admit that she _liked_ working with the muscle head? What was the world coming to?

They reached the central chamber, the doors sealed, and Renegade stepped forward, activating his omni-tool to hack the security lock. A moment later, the console turned green.

James glanced silently at Renegade, then at her. She nodded and raised her gun.

“Let’s go blow shit up.”

 

_East Central Hospital  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Shepard felt his entire world tilting as he stared at Hackett, trying hard to control his panic, feeling it writhing inside him as he fought to maintain a composed expression. Kaidan was staring at the floor, avoiding his gaze, testament enough that he knew how much this was affecting Shepard. And that he had had a hand in bringing this situation about.

“You want me to tell you about the citadel,” Shepard stated, pleased that his voice didn’t waver, and Hackett nodded.

“There are too many unanswered questions,” he explained. “Why the crucible didn’t fire. How Anderson died. How the Illusive Man was involved. There are pieces of the citadel we’ve found that we just can’t explain, pieces that don’t come from any area we’ve ever mapped. We need you to tell us what happened up there.”

“If you can remember it,” Kaidan added, finally looking up. “I mean, I know you were caught in the explosion and had some head trauma. I don’t know if you remember it all clearly…”

If only he knew. The memories were vivid. Too vivid, and Shepard heard the voices echo in his head, as if he had heard them only yesterday.

“It feels like years since I just… sat down.” Anderson, slowly dying on the floor next to him.

“You’d undo everything I’ve accomplished. I won’t let that happen.” The Illusive Man. Indoctrinated. Out of control.

“Wake up.” The Catalyst. God, how he hated that damned AI. “I control the reapers. They are my solution.” He felt a burst of rage, wanting to kill that awful voice all over again. Wanting to kill Leviathan and all his kind for creating that monstrosity.

Shepard looked at the psychiatrist, sitting unobtrusively in the corner. “And what’s he here for?” he asked, letting a hint of anger creep into his voice. Anger was better than panic. Better than fear. 

Hackett opened his mouth to answer… then glanced sideways at Kaidan. Kaidan gave him the slightest of nods. Oh. It was a conspiracy then. The pair of them had been planning this together. Shepard took a deep breath. Fought for control.

“He’s here to assess your state of mind,” Hackett said finally, apparently having opted for the truth. “We realise that this puts you under a lot of pressure.”

“So he’s here to tell you if I’m insane,” Shepard rephrased it bluntly. “Don’t you think you’d have figured it out by now, if I was?”

“You said that you-“ Kaidan cut off whatever he had been about to blurt out, but the cat was out of the bag. 

“I said what?” Shepard demanded. “Six months, I’ve been out of that damned coma, and you think I’ve suddenly lost my mind? What did I do? What made you decide _this_ was the best option?”

Kaidan flinched, his face pale, his hands shaking, just slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, Shepard saw the psychiatrist’s fingers hovering over his omni-tool. Waiting to call security? He felt caged, all of a sudden. What was waiting for him, if he didn’t cooperate here? Sedatives? A psychiatric ward? Incarceration?

“You said you regretted destroying the reapers,” Kaidan forced out, eyes fixed on the floor. “You said the galaxy would be better off if they were still here.”

Shepard felt his entire body go cold. “In Vancouver,” he murmured, in sudden comprehension. “That night I was… I was rambling about the reapers.”

“You remember that?” Kaidan asked warily, as if not sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“I don’t remember what I said, but…” Another piece of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place, one he had missed the first time around. “You think I’m indoctrinated?” The question came out a lot quieter than he had expected. He had meant it as an accusation, a declaration of Kaidan’s betrayal of his trust, but even as he said it, he remembered what the Illusive Man had done to him and Anderson. Was that indoctrination? He hadn’t wanted to shoot Anderson, hadn’t been willing, but his body had acted none the less. Thane had spoken of such things, his body carrying out tasks while his mind and spirit remained at a distance, not responsible for the havoc he wrought. Shepard had never understood it at the time. Now, though, it suddenly made a strange kind of sense.

“We don’t know if you’re indoctrinated or not,” Hackett said, trying to sound reasonable. “But wishing the reapers back is a fairly serious declaration. And I hope you can understand why it has us concerned.” Shepard managed a meek nod, and Hackett went on. “So, with your best interests at heart, Shepard, one way or another, we’re going to need an explanation for what you said.”

And there it was. Whatever he’d said that night, it had been far too much information, letting out secrets he had never wanted the world to know. 

_Control. Synthesis. Destroy._

They were never supposed to know there had been a choice. As it stood now, he was a faithful soldier, he’d activated the crucible, destroyed the reapers, done exactly what the mission had required. They were never supposed to find out that there had been another way.

Shepard looked up into the eyes of his closest friends… and felt like throwing up.


	12. Pain

_Palaven  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“My name is Gil Sharash,” the salarian said, looking nervous and shifty even over the vidcom. “The salarian people are still… reorganizing their government, so I’ve been appointed as a temporary stand in. But I come highly recommended,” he added, pretentiously. “I can show you my pedigree, if you’d like.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Garrus said quickly. And then, to ease any potential slight cause by his refusal, he continued, “I’m sure your people made an excellent choice, and I’ll defer to their judgment.”

The salarian appeared adequately mollified, and Garrus turned to the asari next. 

“I am Irine T’Versa,” the asari matriarch introduced herself. “I was elected by public vote, but due to our limited communications – and the fact that many of our citizens are still… stranded on other worlds, we anticipate a new election to be held within the next year or two. Until then, I assure you that I am well versed in the needs of the asari people, and willing to work towards a united galaxy.”

“Welcome aboard,” Garrus said, already feeling the strain of political negotiation. And they hadn’t even begun yet. “And finally, would the volus please introduce himself?”

The volus drew himself up, no doubt proud as punch to have been invited to join the coveted Council… and probably thinking a little too highly of himself as a result. “My name is Finik Par,” he said with great dignity. “And it is a great honor to have been invited.”

There was a pause, and then Garrus felt a surge of relief that that was all the volus had to say. For the time being. Zaal’Koris, Thax Bereva and Miranda had already introduced themselves, and the sooner they got discussions underway, the sooner they could finish.

“There are two issues we need to address today. The first is to discuss the inclusion of the hanar and the elcor into the Council. As you are no doubt aware, limited communication has meant we have yet to reestablish reliable communication with either species. However, I understand there was some objection to their being included?”

“Yes,” the salarian spoke up. “The elcor. While they’re a most amicable species, I’m concerned about having one as a member of the Council. Elcor are not known for fast decision making, and with deliberations already including seven species, trying to debate policy with an elcor could lead to extremely drawn out Council sessions. It’s just not practical.”

“You bias seems to be based on your own decision-making process,” Miranda said. “The salarians naturally think fast, make rapid decisions. But on the same basis, the asari could well complain that the short life span of the salarians makes them impulsive and lacking the experience to make considered decisions. While the elcor make slow decisions, they do so very thoroughly, meaning the same decision doesn’t have to be revisited again and again. It’s possible the council could learn something from them.”

“That is true,” Koris weighed into the argument. “But Sharosh is right. Drawn out Council sessions would end up weighing on all of us. But perhaps another arrangement could be made. A periodic statement from the elcor of notable preferences and requests, perhaps, with the day to day running of the council left to more… expedient species?”

“An excellent suggestion,” Garrus agreed, relieved that he was not alone in dreading the elcor joining them. “We should discuss a suitable arrangement with the elcor. Once communications are reestablished. And the hanar? Was there an objection to their participation?”

“Not so much an objection as an observation,” the asari spoke up. “The hanar are often reluctant, or ill equipped to deal with other species. I would simply like to mention the likelihood that they might have difficulty finding an appropriate diplomat to join the council.”

“Noted,” Garrus said amiably. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it-“

He was cut off suddenly, as his comm terminal began blinking rapidly, and Miranda and Bereva, the two councilors together on earth, both turned around with a cry of surprise. The comm channel stuttered for a moment, and he was aware of a heated conversation going on, though the details of it were blurred in static. 

And then the signal cleared, with a new visitor appearing in the circle of holographic councilors. It was a geth.

“Councilors,” it greeted them. “I did not mean to startle you. This unit is known as Shade. I would like to discuss a proposition with you.”

Garrus glanced at Miranda, uncertain as to how to proceed. She looked as lost as he was. “Alright,” he hedged cautiously. “What’s the problem?”

“The geth are aware that a new council is being created. One which invites many sapient species to participate. On behalf of the geth, I would like to request… that the geth be allowed to nominate a councilor.”

And holy shit, but he hadn’t seen that one coming. The meeting was silent, each councilor looking more stunned than the last. 

 

_Cerberus Base  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

James checked his thermal clip, then nodded to Renegade. The hunter cloaked himself, vanishing from view. He glanced over at Jack, pistol out, her biotics flaring, and held up three fingers. Counted down to two. One.

He flung the door open, rushing into the room and darting behind the first cover available, a stack of crates near the door. Jack dove in the opposite direction, taking cover behind a column supporting the roof. He glanced out, scanning the room for a target to shoot…

And fucking hell, the room was empty.

Not taking anything for granted, he edged around the far side of the crate and made his way cautiously up the far side of the room, moving from cover to cover. There were plenty of places for Cerberus operatives to hide. Desks, crates of supplies, fuel tanks. Bits of equipment that did god-knows-what. By the time he reached the far wall, he was feeling more than a little miffed. Sure, they could have escaped out the back door, but there was a hell of a lot of equipment here. Information. Money. Surely they wouldn’t just abandon it?

He looked over at Jack. At his baffled expression, she came out of her hiding spot, looking thoroughly pissed off. 

“What the hell?” She tapped a nearby computer. Fiddled with a delicate-looking piece of equipment. Broke it, just for the hell of it. “So where the hell is the big shootout they promised us? It’s not like Cerberus to just turn tail and run.”

“It is statistically improbable that the senior operatives abandoned their posts,” Renegade said, maintaining his cloak as he scoured the room. “The current situation implies… a trap.”

“Awesome,” James said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “So how the hell do we trigger this trap? I’ve got bullets with Cerberus’s name on them.”

Jack shrugged, looking over another piece of equipment. This one was sturdier, and it took a firm biotic shock to break one of the arms off the machine. “What say we do a little recon while we’ve got the chance. Never know when another one of these fucking nests is going to pop up.”

She lifted the lid on one of the crates, brushed away a layer of packing pellets…

Soldiers burst out of the crate, covering the room in a rain of bullets. James dove for cover, swearing fluently as more crates burst open, bullets flying… and then one of the fuel tanks exploded. 

“Fucking hell!” He returned fire, not having a fucking clue where Jack was, not knowing if she was dead or alive… but given that she had been at point blank range to the first set of troops, chances were good that she was dead.

He spotted a glimmer of light over to his left, and sent a prayer of gratitude up that Renegade, at least, was still alive and kicking. The geth took out three mercs in quick succession, then began skirting around the room, seeking a better angle on the remaining ones.

And then, as the flood of bullets thinned, James dared to peer out from his cover, dreading seeing Jack’s dead body…

And holy hell, she was alive! Standing in the middle of the room, biotic barrier flaring, she flung shockwave after shockwave at the remaining mercs, who crumbled like a house of cards.

Seven remained, and James reloaded his gun, taking aim and firing rapidly. Six left. Five. He edged out to the left, as Renegade took down another two. One of the remaining men was sheltering behind a pillar. No shot from here. But if he could just… 

Fuck! He felt a red hot pain in his leg and collapsed in a graceless heap, already pulling his gun around for a shot at the bastard scum who…

With a cry, Jack threw herself at the last merc, the one who had flanked him, and emptied her gun into him, shredding his barrier and… yep, he was pretty sure the guy was dead now, but she kept firing, until it was hard to tell that he had ever had a face in the first place. Finally, she ran out of ammo and ejected her thermal clip with a disgusted sound.

Despite the pain, James let out a snort of laughter. “Gonna have a hard time identifying him now,” he muttered, even as he pulled out a tube of medi-gel. “But thanks.”

“I knew I’d have to save your ass at least once today,” Jack bitched at him. “Still think physical conditioning outdoes biotics?”

Shit, that was going to be coming back and biting him for years. Served him right for getting drunk at a party full of biotics. But on an amusing note… Kaidan had ended up glowing blue by the end of the night.

“Okay, so you might have one over on me there,” he admitted, accepting her hand up. Honestly, it had been sexy as hell, watching her take on a dozen mercs at once, unfazed, biotics flaring all around her.

Not that he’d ever tell her that. 

Ever.

And the way she had brought down the tunnel? You had to respect a woman who could pull that kind of power.

The bullet wound was going numb, the bleeding slowed to a trickle, and he made an effort not to limp.

Renegade chose that moment to decloak, and James bit back a yelp of surprise. A smirk from Jack told him that she had noticed.

“Vega-Lieutenant. I have confirmed the identity of all Cerberus personnel,” the geth told him, sounding almost cheerful. “We have eliminated eleven out of thirteen assigned Cerberus targets. It is highly improbable that any remaining personnel will be able to recreate the Cerberus organisation.”

“Great.” Best news he’d had all day. “Now all we have to do is get out of here.”

 

_East Central Hospital  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Kaidan watched as a wave of emotions played across Shepard’s face, fear, disgust, nausea, regret. And he wanted nothing more than to tell him it was all okay, that he didn’t have to talk about this, that they could just go home and forget all about it…

Except that they couldn’t. They had to know. And seeing the pain it was causing Shepard was killing him.

But, if he had thought that was bad, Shepard’s next words made it a thousand times worse.

“I’ll tell you,” he said to Hackett. “I’ll tell you what happened up there. But not with Kaidan here. He doesn’t need to hear this.”

Kaidan was speechless. “What? Why?”

Hackett seemed as taken aback as he was. “Shepard, is that really-“

“That is not up for discussion,” Shepard said firmly, his voice strained. “You want to know what happened, then you do it on my terms.”

Face pale, hands shaking badly, Kaidan stood up. “Kaidan, you don’t-“ Hackett tried to say, but Kaidan interrupted him.

“No. It’s okay. If that’s what Shepard wants.” He forced himself to go to the door. Opened it. Paused. “I’ll be just down the hall,” he said, then closed the door quietly behind him.

Once he reached the visitors lounge, Kaidan sank into a seat, breathing quickly, his stomach churning. Why? Why would Shepard shut him out like that? He felt a brief stab of panic – what if Shepard intended to harm himself… or Hackett… but reminded himself that Hackett had a pistol, and the psychiatrist had any number of medications to restrain him… and god, why didn’t that make him feel any better?

He’d told Hackett that he would give up his relationship with Shepard if it meant the man got the treatment, the support he needed. And at the time, he had believed it. But now? All he wanted to do was rush back into the room, rewind the last five minutes, and take Shepard home. Wrap him up in bed, make love to him, and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

_“I can’t lose you again…”_

He had uttered the words without thinking, an instinctive plea to not have to go through the pain of Shepard’s death all over again. 

Hell, they were engaged. But they’d never even gotten around to telling anyone. And if he lost Shepard now, if he was alive, but shut Kaidan out of his life?

As it turned out… some things hurt worse than dying.

 

Back inside the hospital room, Hackett was watching Shepard, deep concern on his face.

“Kaidan doesn’t need to hear this,” Shepard repeated. “The reasons why will make sense by the end of this. I just don’t… I don’t want him to suffer. It’s not his fault. And I just…”

“You love him,” Hackett filled in, his voice soft, understanding, and Shepard nodded.

“He asked me to marry him,” he blurted out, causing Hackett to gasp. “I love him. And I wasn’t strong enough to leave.”

Hackett glanced at the psychiatrist in the corner, then took a deep breath. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, son. What happened when you reached the beam?”

And so he told him. About the Illusive Man. The strange control he’d had over himself and Anderson. Was it indoctrination? He didn’t know. Told him about shooting Anderson. Then breaking free of the control and shooting the Illusive Man. Told him about activating the crucible. And then nothing happening. 

Told him, haltingly, struggling to find the words, about the Catalyst. That godforsaken AI. Three choices. Not one, like they all thought, but three. 

Destroy. End the reapers, but destroy the relays, galactic communication, travel, set their way of life back thousands of years. 

Synthesis. He could never have chosen that, couldn’t have inflicted such drastic change on so many, not without giving them the choice.

Control.

He should have controlled them.

Told Hackett about Control. The Illusive Man was right. Told him about the option to make use of millions of years of knowledge. To bring a lasting peace to the galaxy. To improve trillions of lives, across dozens of species. 

Told him about losing his humanity, his corporeal being, to become… something else. And that that was the point where his courage had failed.

Told Hackett that instead, he had chosen to destroy. To deliberately and willfully cripple the galaxy. To destroy not one mass relay, this time, but all of them. To strand countless millions on distant worlds, in unreachable star systems. To doom the galaxy to war between organics and synthetics.

Told him about those five, fateful words.

_“I can’t lose you again…”_

How could they ever forgive him?


	13. Taking Chances

_Palaven  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“There’s a planet in the Crescent Nebula that I believe would suit the Krogan well,” Miranda said coolly. “I would prefer, of course, to see that the rebuilding of Tuchanka proceeds as planned before the Krogan start sending too many people off world, but it’s a definite option for the future.”

“And the Crescent Nebula,” Bereva said drolly, not fooled for one moment, “happens to be en route to the Perseus Veil.”

“It’s also on the edge of the Terminus Systems,” Garrus pointed out. “A strong Krogan presence in that area would discourage too much lawlessness. And give the Krogan something to do.”

Fortunately, as a female of her species who had spent far too long watching the males pick fights and butt heads, Bereva could appreciate the dry humor in his remark.

“You make a persuasive argument,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. “Alright. You have my support.”

“This is ridiculous,” the salarian councilor objected. “Tracking a route through the terminus systems doesn’t help anyone!”

“So you would rather leave them to their own devices?” the asari asked, disdain in her voice. “If we don’t act, then by the time we get around to repairing the relays in that system, it could have had a decade or more of unchecked crime and lawlessness. I hardly think that’s something that we can just ignore.”

“And there is a significant economic benefit to opening that route,” the volus put in. “For all its unsavory characteristics, crime does generate cash flow.”

It had been an utter shock, over the last half hour, to have Finik Par, the volus councilor, agree to opening a route to the quarian home world in the Perseus Veil. Even the asari had agreed, albeit reluctantly and with a great many conditions placed on the agreement. Only the salarian had put up any real resistance – mostly to show he wouldn’t be pushed around, Garrus suspected. But all in all, the meeting had been productive.

“That’s agreed then, six votes to one. We push through the Terminus Systems to Rannoch. There is one final matter we need to reach a decision on,” Garrus said, bringing the group back to an issue from the start of the meeting. “We need to make a decision on the geth.”

“The geth were originally a servant race to the quarians,” Koris opened the debate. “While they’ve clearly moved beyond that, I’m not convinced that they’re capable of making decisions regarding the welfare of the entire galaxy. They’re… well… young. Inexperienced. They’ve had hardly any time to learn how to interact with organic species. For most of their existence, they’ve cloistered themselves on Rannoch.”

“But the geth have been instrumental in rebuilding the relay in the Sol system,” Miranda objected immediately. “And in the Apien Crest. And there are plenty more to go. How are we supposed to ask them to rebuild dozens of relays around the galaxy if we won’t give them a voice in the decisions we make?”

“So we give them a seat on the council, not because we believe they’re ready for it,” the asari asked sardonically, “but rather to bribe them to keep helping us?”

“After the reaper code allowed them to become individuals,” Garrus joined the debate, “they chose to allow the quarians to return to Rannoch. They chose to join the battle against the reapers. Many of them were killed, their ships destroyed, in the final push towards Earth. They might be inexperienced, but they’ve proven they’re willing to put themselves on the line when the tough choices have to be made.”

“I disagree,” the volus said, and Garrus held back a sigh. Perhaps he had been overly optimistic in his assessment of the council so far…

 

_Shuttle over London  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“You sure you don’t need some more medi-gel?” Jack asked, all sweetness and light. “Want to put your leg up? I could shift to a different seat, if that would help.”

She had been like this ever since they had arrived at the shuttle. Inside the base, they’d run into heavy resistance, and she’d blown off steam by yelling at him for letting himself get flanked, for letting his barriers get too depleted. But now she seemed to have changed tactics. 

And James wasn’t falling for any of it. “Hey, it’s not the first time I’ve been shot,” he said, trying to keep his cool. Having the rest of his squad looking on wasn’t helping. “It’s just a… flesh wound.” The fact that he had been limping heavily for the last half hour of the mission hadn’t helped. 

“Well, I guess it’s true then,” Jack went on, and James bit his tongue, not wanting to know…

“What’s true?” one of his team asked for him, and James just shook his head.

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Jack said with a smirk. “I haven’t seen a marine hit the floor like that since… well… ever.”

“He shot me in the leg!” James protested before he could think better of it. “What, so you’re saying if you got shot, you’d just stand there?”

“ _I_ ,” Jack said, attitude in full swing, “didn’t get shot.” She turned to Renegade. “Hey, geth-person. Did you get shot?”

“Negative,” Renegade replied. “My cloaking shield reduces the likelihood that I will receive damage in battle by 96.34%.”

“Are you sure you don’t want more medi-gel?” Jack asked again, offering him a tube. “You don’t have to put on a brave face. Take it if you need it.”

“I am confused,” Renegade piped up. “Vega-Lieutenant’s injury should not require a second application of medi-gel. Have I miscalculated the severity of his injury?”

“See, now you’re confusing the geth,” James complained, shifting in his seat. And god damn it, he couldn’t quite control a wince as he did so, a sharp pain shooting up his leg. It had taken them over four hours to claw their way out of the tunnels, and the medi-gel had well and truly worn off by now.

Jack chuckled, as did the rest of his team, and James knew he’d lost this round. She switched seats, moving to the one right beside him, and patted his knee. “Okay, Vega. You’ve proved you’re a big, tough man. I’m duly impressed.” She held out the tube, all traces of sarcasm gone. “Now, seriously. Just take the damn gel.”

She wasn’t serious. He damn well knew that the moment he took the gel, she was going to come out with some smart-ass comment. 

But damn it, his leg was really aching…

“Fine,” he caved, snatching the tube. And shit, didn’t it feel good, the cool gel relieving the burning ache. He let out a groan of relief… glanced up… and, yep. There was a look of smug disdain on Jack’s face, while his crew studiously tried not to laugh.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you,” he moaned, already knowing the answer.

“Nope,” Jack said cheerfully. “This one’s going into the history books.”

_London Air Base  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Hey, Jack?” James called as the mission debrief wrapped up. “Me and a couple of the guys are going to get a drink this evening. Want to join us?”

Jack felt a thrill of anticipation at the question… and immediately wanted to slap herself. Shit, she’d really enjoyed today. Kicking Cerberus ass, working with a geth… who was even more stealthy and sneaky than she had expected. And then there was James. She’d tried her hardest to rattle him, sure that the cool, calm façade was just that – a façade. But try as she might, he’d kept his head, never losing his temper, proving he had a quick wit, as he gave as good as he got.

And he hadn’t made one single comment about her being a woman. Or the ways she chose to express that.

So, okay, yeah, she’d been kind of disappointed that the day was over. 

Not that she would tell him that. 

Ever.

But that didn’t mean she had to get all sappy and start crying because the fun was over. 

“You sure you want me there, Vega?” she said, unable to help the challenge in her voice. “I wouldn’t want to show you up again.”

But James just held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, no, I’m not… challenging you to a drinking contest, or anything. Just a few beers and a chat, that’s all.”

Damn him. How was she supposed to keep her defenses up when he wouldn’t fight her? But then she caught a flash of… was that wistfulness? On James Vega?

“Wait a minute.” She folded her arms, eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me out on a date?” And damn it, he was adorable when he got all flustered.

“Ah, no, I… Well… maybe. I mean… a date wouldn’t be a bad thing… Would it?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” she snapped at him, harsher than she meant to be. “You’ve seen the shit that I can pull. Now either grow a set and ask me out properly, or shut the fuck up.”

If anything, he only got more uneasy… and then the confusion suddenly vanished from his face, and she was sure she had blown it, that he was going to tell her to get lost…

“Okay. Jack. Would you come out for a drink with me? On a date.”

Jack fought to keep the grin off her face. “Sure,” she said with deliberate nonchalance. “Why not.”

James laughed, a surprisingly husky sound, and Jack had the fleeting thought that she’d like to hear that sound more often. “You know how to keep a guy on his toes, I’ll give you that,” James mused, as he set about stowing his equipment. 

“Did I ever mention that I have a pet varren?” Jack asked him, and he glanced sideways at her.

“I may have heard a rumor to that effect,” he replied.

“His name’s Eezo. He’s from Thessia. I’ll have to tell you aaaall about him.”

_East Central Hospital  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Footsteps. Heavy, with rubber soles squeaking on the vinyl floor. Kaidan rubbed his face and sat up straight, aware that he probably looked like hell. It had been three hours since he had left Hackett and Shepard in the ward, and since he hadn’t heard any alarms going off, no guards running about, he figured maybe it had gone alright.

Hackett rounded the corner. He looked tired. Sat down next to Kaidan and rubbed his eyes.

“He’s not indoctrinated,” he said, after a long pause. 

Kaidan sighed in relief. Closed his eyes. “You’re absolutely sure?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. Hackett wouldn’t take a risk on a thing like this. 

“Absolutely sure,” Hackett echoed him. “Hell of a thing, though.” He shook his head and lapsed into silence. And just as Kaidan was about to press for more details, Hackett spoke again. “I can’t tell you everything he said. He has some good reasons for not wanting you to know. And I know that’s hard to hear,” he conceded, as Kaidan opened his mouth to object, “but the bottom line is, he loves you, and he doesn’t want you to suffer. The way he’s suffering.”

Kaidan swore. That was bullshit. There was no need for Shepard to keep playing the hero, and he turned to tell Hackett that…

“I’ve told him that he needs to explain it all to you,” Hackett jumped in before he could get a word out. “But I’m going to let him do that in his own time. So I’m only going to give you the barest details, just to help you make some sense of all this.”

Kaidan nodded. Waited. Christ, the anticipation was killing him.

“The Crucible wasn’t designed just to destroy the reapers. Shepard had another option. He could have chosen to control them instead.”

“So the Illusive Man was right?” Kaidan said, then he cringed. “Shepard said that. That night. He said the Illusive Man was right. I didn’t understand how he could believe that.”

“The consequences of controlling the reapers would have been… vast. And the Illusive Man was already indoctrinated. He, personally, would never have been able to do it,” Hackett went on, sounding more tired than ever. Another old soldier, still fighting for his planet. “But the point is, Shepard could have done it. And he regrets not taking that option.”

“Which is why he said the galaxy would be better off if the reapers were still here,” Kaidan filled in. It was a relief to know there was a rational explanation for all this. And frustrating as hell to not know what that explanation really was. 

He looked up at Hackett… and saw that the conversation was over. “So that’s it? That’s all I get?”

Hackett stood up. “For now,” he said, not unkindly. And then, “Could I give you some advice?”

Kaidan shrugged, and nodded. 

“Don’t pressure him to talk. The day may come when you wish that he hadn’t told you.” Hardly an encouraging thought, Kaidan mused, as Hackett went to retrieve Shepard. But given the way the day could have ended? All things considered, this was far from the worst it could have been.

 

On the way to the shuttle, Shepard was silent, maybe angry, maybe just worn out. “Are you okay?” Kaidan asked at one point, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. 

Shepard let out a harsh laugh. “No,” he said, his voice rough. “God, no.” Neither of them had said anything more, and they crossed the courtyard to the landing pad, heads hung low, minds consumed with dark thoughts.

The shuttle arrived and the door opened. Shepard climbed inside. But before Kaidan followed him, he just had to ask… “Do you want…?” Shepard turned to him with a quizzical look, and he forced himself to continue. “I mean… do you… Are you… mad at me?” 

Faint surprise registered on Shepard’s face, then his frown melted away. “Come on,” Shepard said, holding his hand out to Kaidan. “Let’s go home.”

 

_James’ Apartment  
288 days since the reapers were destroyed_

James lay on top of the bed, panting, his cock still wet as it cooled against his thigh. And damn, but he had a whole new respect for biotics now. Even in his wildest imagination, he’d had no idea that _that_ was possible…

He heard the bathroom door open and lifted his head, seeing Jack come sauntering out, still utterly nude, and he didn’t care that he was flat on his back, still catching his breath and as blissed out as when she had climbed off him.

She stood at the edge of the bed and stared down at him, and he could all but taste the stinging remark she was about to make.

“Damn, Vega… You look like I wore you out.”

He let out a laugh, making an effort to shift over, giving her room on the bed. “Yeah, that was… definitely more of a workout than I’m used to.”

She sat on the bed, propping herself comfortably against the headboard. “You do this a lot, then, do you?” she asked casually.

James wasn’t stupid. No woman, no matter how brash and rough around the edges liked to be told she was one of many. And fortunately, in his case, it happened to be true. “No, not… Not real often. I mean... I guess I’ve just been putting duty first, for a while.” It might have been his imagination, but her scowl seemed to soften, just a little. Her gaze drifted down his body, and he felt a twinge of renewed interest further south.

“Up for round two?” 

James let out a chuckle. “Maybe in a little while,” he said, not afraid of admitting that he was no longer as young as he used to be. He dragged himself up to sit against the headboard, feeling his skin tingle as Jack’s gaze lingered on his body.

He had turned her down, at first. Had said that they didn’t have to end up in bed for it to be a good night. And then she’d sworn at him, turned away and gone to talk to one of the guys from his squad. He’d expected that to be the last word on the matter.

Until she’d come back. Told him that he reminded her of Shepard. And damned if that wasn’t the best compliment he’d ever had. And then she’d apologised – fucking apologised – for being such a bitch. And somehow, they’d ended up here, in his apartment, with his cock throbbing harder than it had in living memory, and Jack kissing him like she was drowning and he was air.

“Nice ink,” she said, pulling him back to the present – not what he had been expecting, but he could work with it. 

“Thanks. You’ve got some nice work there, yourself.”

“Did a lot of it myself,” she admitted, and, feeling bold, he ran his hand down her thigh. Nudged her over so he could look at the tattoos on her back. Her ass. Down the backs of her legs. 

“Not this bit,” he countered, stroking her from knee to buttocks, a slow, deliberately soothing touch, and for a moment, her armor cracked. The scowl faded.

“I had a friend do that bit,” she admitted, and he thought he could hear a waver in her voice. And this was why he had agreed to let her come home with him. There was more to Jack that met the eye, layers of complexity and nuance and vulnerability beneath the metaphorical walls of stone that kept people out.

Not that he would ever tell her that. To call her out on her weaknesses was to invite a knife to the gut. He got that.

So instead, he tugged her back around to face him, and let a slow, ever-so-slightly seductive smile creep onto his face. “How’d you like to do one for me?” 

Her sass was back, absent the barriers, this time. “Where?”

“Somewhere no one else will see it…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… James and Jack. It just popped into my head one day, and ever since then, they’ve just seemed perfect for each other. Does anyone else agree with me? Or do you just think I’m crazy?


	14. Realizations

_London Air Base  
304 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Hackett looked around the compound, wondering how to pick Shade out of the dozen or so geth prime units that were wandering around. He still hadn’t customised his mobile platform… but then, to his surprise, Hackett saw him. He couldn’t have said what it was that made Shade stand out. Only that, somehow, looking at the four primes standing in a huddle, discussing a damaged circuit board, he knew it was Shade.

“Shade?” he called, and the geth looked up. And his facial plates flared, the pattern being one that Hackett now recognised as indicating happiness. And then he came over, abandoning the circuit board to his comrades.

“Hackett-Admiral. How can I assist you?”

“I was wondering if you’d finished analyzing the rogue geth’s memory core. Did you find any useful information on it?”

The facial plates rippled again, this time indicating… confusion? Sorrow? He wasn’t sure of the exact emotion, but it had a bitter-sweet feel to it, a kind of excitement combined with a droop of the head.

“We did.” Shade seemed reluctant to continue, and Hackett wondered whether he was pushing for something too personal. But then the geth went on. “The unit who shot the salarian was known as ‘Flash’. The information we found on his memory core was… unexpected.”

“You seem upset by it,” Hackett hazarded a guess, not sure if geth even felt real emotions. 

“Flash had encountered numerous threats from salarians. He was concerned about the safety of the geth, but he also understood the need to rebuild. Organics are highly dependant on technology, and he wished to assist.”

“If he wanted to help, why would he shoot someone?” Hackett asked, and was astonished to see Shade’s head droop, his facial plates sagging in despair. 

“I failed,” Shade said, seeming utterly ashamed of himself. “I was assigned to act as an intermediary between the geth and organics. You instructed us to work with the salarians. When this assignment was unsuccessful, I attempted to rectify it. I requested assistance.”

“I remember,” Hackett said, a sinking feeling in his gut. “You mean when the salarians were working on the relay? But we replaced them with teams of humans. That didn’t improve the situation?” How had he missed something so important? The human crews had seemed cooperative, had even seemed to enjoy working with the geth…

“But the salarians were reassigned to repair FTL ships,” Shade said. “Alongside a small number of geth. I failed to anticipate the problems this would cause.” And as he spoke, Hackett felt a wave of guilt. If Shade had failed in his responsibilities, then Hackett was even more to blame. 

“Flash found himself unable to resolve the threats from the salarians, and he wished to protect… his people. Resolution through proper channels had failed. So he sought to draw attention to the problem to lead to more resources being allocated to it. He knew that killing a salarian would lead to his own execution. But he did so anyway… in order to bring attention to our situation. His calculations were accurate,” Shade concluded sadly. “His actions led to the investigation into the reaper code. And EDI’s conclusions about morality. This was a great step forward for the geth.” Shade’s head drooped again, his plates flaring meekly. “We are… grateful… for his sacrifice.”

 

_London Apartment  
305 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Shepard opened the door and felt a flash of surprise at seeing Hackett on the other side. It had been a week since that infamous meeting at the hospital, and he hadn’t been back to the Air Base since. In fact, aside from walks around the block, purely for the exercise, he had barely left the apartment. 

Kaidan was out, checking on some much-needed repairs to the Normandy, and Shepard had the fleeting insight that Hackett had planned it that way. He held the door open, and Hackett took the invitation, stepping inside. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he stated, cutting right to the chase. “And I wanted to tell you what I’ve come up with.”

Shepard regarded him suspiciously. “You think you’ve worked out destroy verses control in seven days, when I’ve had it rattling around in my head for nine months without any kind of resolution?”

Hackett laughed. Smiled. Smirked. “Yes.”

Shepard glanced sideways at the clock. 1:42 in the afternoon. “I’m going to need a drink for this one,” he said, and without waiting for a reply, headed for the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he and Hackett were seated in the living room, on the second hand sofas, and Shepard mentally braced himself. “Okay. Hit me with it,” he said, after taking a pull from his glass of whiskey. Hackett merely smiled and took a drink from his own glass. 

“It’s a lot more simple than I thought it would be,” he said, with an air of smug wisdom, and Shepard idly considered how satisfying it would be to punch the bastard. Instead, he waited silently. Attempted to look patient and unconcerned.

“The truth of the matter is,” Hackett said, setting his glass on the coffee table, “I think you would have made a shit AI.”

Shepard’s jaw dropped. It was so far out of left field, so utterly different than anything he had expected Hackett to say. He’d expected the absolution speech, the ‘it wasn’t your fault’, the ‘you had to make a split second decision’, the ‘you’re only human, you can’t blame yourself’. He told himself every possible placatory lie over the months, and none of them had helped. And in a single sentence, Hackett had blown through them all.

“What?” he managed to gasp out. He wasn’t offended, far too stunned to gather any kind of indignation at the announcement.

But Hackett was unfazed. “Think about it,” he said, propping one ankle up on his knee. “Throughout human history, there have been a number of recurring themes, and one of the big ones has always been… ‘power corrupts’. No human is capable of having vast amounts of power without turning that power to their own advantage. 

“So yes, at first, you would have led the reapers to improve civilisation, to advance technology, to deepen our knowledge and understanding. But how long would it have been before you started to see yourself as some kind of god? You would have had the power to determine who lived and who died. Which diseases you cured, and which were left to ravage innocent populations. What about criminals? There are thousands of them in the Terminus Systems. Would you have just decided to arbitrarily wipe them out? What about the geth? The rogue unit killed a salarian. The Catalyst said that synthetics would always go to war with organics. Would you have seen that as a declaration of war? Would you have shut down the entire geth population?”

Shepard shook his head, not to deny the accusations, but to try to clear it. Myriad decisions were running through his mind… each of them fraught with the risk of miscalculation, the chance of making a choice based on incomplete information. 

And at the heart of it all was the gut-wrenching disgust at having decisions imposed upon them. The Catalyst had decided for all organics what was best for them – heedless of their dire objections to its decisions. Would he have become the very same beast? What about the genophage? If the krogan again began breeding rapidly, he would have had the power to cull their numbers. Mass murder, in the name of population control. The possibilities were endless… and endlessly horrifying. He had already made decisions which had altered the future of the galaxy – like releasing the rachni queen, much to the council’s horror. 

But the implications were far too big to wrap his head around. “But… there was millions of years of wisdom embodied in the reapers. Thousands of species. Wouldn’t that have provided some kind of… balance to the drive for power?”

Hackett considered the idea. Briefly. “The Catalyst itself had access to all that information. It knew of organics’ objections to the harvest. Had known, ever since Leviathan’s species became the first reaper. And it had ignored it all. Knowledge is not power. Power can become an end unto itself.

“What it basically comes down to, Shepard, is this: You are not a god. You have neither the capacity, nor the right, to decide the fate of trillions of lives. And yes, as a result of that, the galaxy is holding itself together with bits of string and duct tape. But from this point on… they have the freedom to choose. Choose what? Who cares. That’s not the point. The point is that the choice is theirs.”

And just like that, Shepard felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Oh, he didn’t believe all his guilt would go away overnight. It was far too complex an issue to simply dismiss with a few choice phrases and an ego-check. But…

But what Hackett was saying, in a nutshell, was that he had made the right choice.

_“I can’t lose you again…”_

Instead of blocking his path to his true purpose, instead of destroying his courage and conviction… maybe those words had simply been his salvation.

 

_London Apartment  
310 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Shepard arched his back, feeling Kaidan slide deeper inside him. His lover moaned, a deep, husky sound that made Shepard’s cock twitch, and he moaned back, his hands groping for Kaidan’s thighs, tugging him closer as he knelt between Shepard’s spread legs, thrusting into his hot, willing body.

He felt Kaidan’s hand grip tightly around his cock, and opened his eyes to look down at where they were joined. Kaidan was watching himself slide in and out of Shepard, and he glanced up, meeting his eyes, sweat dripping from his forehead. The open lust on his face was intoxicating, and Shepard moaned again. He was close to climaxing, and felt a twinge of guilt for a moment, for letting Kaidan do all the work in this round of love-making. Tired after a long day, he’d literally done little more than lie there, stroking which ever part of Kaidan he could reach, and willingly opening his legs when Kaidan had asked how he wanted it.

Or maybe the guilt had more to do with still not having told Kaidan about what had happened on the citadel. Hackett had decided to leave it up to him to fill Kaidan in, and he’d been looking for the right moment, trying to work up the courage, wanting to cling to just one more day together, one more night of paradise, before laying his soul bare.

Hackett’s talk had helped, wrenching him out of his despair, showing him new perspectives that he had never previously considered. But he still had to find out what Kaidan thought of it all. It was strange, terrifying, and exhilarating, how much he needed to know Kaidan’s opinion… and how much that would hurt, if Kaidan thought he’d made the wrong choice. 

Kaidan was the reason he had come back. The reason he had kept breathing, when letting go, when giving in and heading towards the proverbial light would have been so easy…

“Shepard!” Kaidan gasped, his body tensing as he neared his climax. And Shepard tugged him down to kiss him, reveling in the feel of his warm tongue against his own, of his taste, of the feel of his rough stubble against his own face. But there was something else he wanted, first…

“John,” Shepard said, and Kaidan looked at him with utter incomprehension. 

“What?”

“Call me John,” Shepard said, and god help him, he was tired of being _Shepard_ , tired of being the hero, the saviour, the one with all the answers, the one to lead the fight and carry the weight and hold it all together. When did he get to fall apart?

“Please… call me John…”

“John.” Kaidan’s voice was rough, uncertain, a sudden tilt to his world that he hadn’t seen coming, and his pace slowed, as he thrust uncertainly into his lover’s body. 

Shepard nodded. “John,” he confirmed, and guided Kaidan’s hand back to his weeping cock. “I love you.”

There were tears in Kaidan’s eyes suddenly, and he gasped, his body caught in the beginnings of an explosion he was barely ready for…

“John…” he croaked, his voice sounding strangled. He thrust again, a wordless cry coming from his lips. And then they were both coming, Kaidan deep inside his body, Shepard across his own abdomen, his legs clutching Kaidan’s body close, as if afraid he would disappear. “Shepard!”

And John laughed, as he caught his breath and slowly came back to earth. Not bad for a first try. It was bound to take some getting used to.

 

_Later that night…_

Shepard lay in bed, Kaidan’s head on his shoulder, Kaidan’s arm flung across his torso, his breath teasing Shepard’s skin with each exhalation. Neither of them were asleep. 

And suddenly, unexpectedly, Shepard knew that it would be okay. That he could tell Kaidan anything, and he would still be here, by his side, still love him. Forgive him, if need be. 

It would all be okay.

“Kaidan,” he said softly, and got a murmur in reply.

“What is it?”

Shepard took a breath. In. Out. 

“It’s time I told you about the Catalyst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why the control option was a stupid ending. Then again, this whole fic has basically been catharsis for the worst ending to a game ever. Unless you count the ending to Final Fantasy 13-2. Which wasn't even an ending, it was just a big marketting ploy to try and make people buy the next game. Shame on you, Square Enix. Shame on you.
> 
> Okay, we have one more chapter to go, then this circus will be all wrapped up. Enjoy.


	15. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahh! After pretty much just thumping out the rest of this fic in a flash, this last chapter has taken FOREVER. The mood was wrong, the humor was wrong, I couldn’t work out how to get people to say what I wanted them to say. Just… Gahhh!  
> Hope you enjoy it.

_Beach – Hawaii  
983 days since the reapers were destroyed_

Garrus sat in a lounge chair, feeling the warm sun on his face, the cool breeze, watching the trees sway above them. It was pleasant enough. The sand had been a surprise, almost white in color. Sand on Palaven was always brown. All in all, he would have said it was perfect. Except for that one thing…

“When I said we could retire somewhere warm,” Garrus complained to his companion, “I hadn’t anticipated it would be somewhere with quite so much… water.”

The Hawaiian Islands. One of the few places on Earth that had finished rebuilding itself, and one of even fewer that was marketing itself as a holiday destination. 

“Relax,” Shepard told him, sounding a little too negligent for Garrus’ liking. “No one is going to force you to go swimming. And besides, you’re not retired.”

Garrus glanced sideways. Shepard was lying on his own lounge chair, wearing startlingly little clothing – bathing shorts, he had called them – and a pair of dark glasses over his eyes that made him look strangely like a large insect. Garrus had only seen humans unclothed a couple of times, and it always surprised him how… squishy they looked. Particularly Shepard. For a man who could headbutt a krogan, take down a thresher maw and survive getting lasered by a reaper, his body was surprisingly fragile.

“Yes, well,” Garrus conceded. “But running the Council is more like supervising a room full of toddlers than protecting the integrity of the galaxy. All I can say is thank god for the spectres. They, at least, still know how to get things done.”

“I hear you’ve got a hanar councilor, now.” He could hear the smirk in Shepard’s voice. “How’s that going?”

Garrus merely made a disgusted noise and refused to answer.

“Okay, here we go,” Kaidan announced cheerfully, returning from the bar with a tray of drinks. “One dextro-amino wine.” He handed the glass to Garrus. “And one pina colada,” he handed Shepard the glass, “complete with an umbrella. As requested.”

“And what is that?” Garrus asked, eyeing the green liquid in Kaidan’s glass. 

“It’s an Irish Julep,” he told him happily. “I would offer you a taste, but… you know… it could kill you.” He sat down and relaxed, reaching out to give Shepard’s hand a squeeze. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the seagulls calling, the rustle of the trees.

“So, you are going to stick around for the wedding, right?” Shepard said at length. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Garrus told him. “Of course, I do have to survive three council meetings and a spectre ceremony before then. We’re appointing the fifth human spectre, the first krogan, and…” He broke off, looking uncomfortable.

“And?” Shepard prompted.

“And a volus,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as his two companions burst out laughing. “But assuming I live through that, I’d be delighted to come.”

“Great,” Shepard said. “Because we humans have this tradition that I’d like you to be a part of. It involves dressing up, dancing with beautiful women, making speeches… all the things you’d be good at. It’s called a ‘Best Man’…”

Kaidan let out a snort of laughter, and Garrus turned to him, a worried edge to his voice. “Is there something funny about me being a best man?” he asked, concerned. He’d heard that some of these human traditions could be… embarrassing.

“No, I think you’d make a great best man,” Kaidan said, his tone honest and genuine. Then he glanced at Shepard, a smirk on his lips. “I was just wondering if we should ask Jack to be a bridesmaid…”

 

_Conference Hall – London  
1107 days since the reapers were destroyed_

“Do you, John Shepard, take Kaidan Alenko to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?”

“I do,” Shepard replied, feeling a thrill of joy at the pronouncement. His hands shook, and he felt Kaidan give him a reassuring squeeze.

“And do you, Kaidan Alenko, take John Shepard to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the Systems Alliance, I now pronounce you legally wed. You may kiss your husband.”

Applause filled the room around them, and he saw Garrus, over Kaidan’s shoulder, looking pleased and proud, and beyond him, a beaming Liara, wearing a beautiful burgundy dress, as their one bridesmaid. 

And then he leaned in, cupping Kaidan’s cheek in his hand, and kissed his husband, feeling more alive, and freer, and happier than he could ever remember being in his whole life.

 

Hours later, the wedding banquet was well underway. Fortunately, no one had gotten too drunk yet, but, judging by the increasing noise coming from Grunt’s table, the krogan weren’t too far off it. Shepard just hoped nothing too expensive would get broken…

“It’s been an honor knowing both Shepard and Kaidan,” Garrus was saying, giving the required Best Man’s speech. “Shepard has made my life far more interesting than I ever thought it would be, and has taught me more about other species than I ever wanted to know. He’s the only human I have ever seen to survive drinking Ryncol.”

“What?!” Kaidan was looking at him in affronted astonishment. Oh, right. That had been during the mission to stop the collectors. Kaidan mustn’t have heard about that episode yet… “You drank ryncol? Are you out of your mind?”

“I can now say that, thanks to Shepard,” Garrus went on, as Shepard waved away Kaidan’s concern, “I have learned that despite the way their legs bend, some humans are actually very graceful dancers. Not that either of these two qualify,” he added, glancing at Shepard and Kaidan, to laughter, mainly from the people who were unfortunate enough to have seen Shepard dance. “I now know that it’s possible to kill a thresher maw with a pistol.” Another jaw dropping moment from Kaidan – yeah, that had been during Grunt’s rite of passage. “And I have seen first hand what happens when you set a krogan on fire.” Raucous laughter from the table of krogan, Grunt in the midst of it. “Kaidan, of course, has largely been responsible for pulling Shepard’s ass out of the fire, a task which I am honored to have shared with him.

“I’ve been asked to deliver several apologies from people who would have liked to be here today, but unfortunately couldn’t make it. Jacob Taylor sends his regards. His wife is due to have their second child any day now. And Urdnot Wrex was unable to leave his duties on Tuchanka, but he asks that you ‘headbutt a volus’ for him.” The room broke into laughter – thankfully no volus were present to get offended.

“So now, please raise your glasses for a toast… To Shepard and Kaidan.”

“To Shepard and Kaidan,” the room echoed. Shepard took a drink, then turned to kiss Kaidan again… wondering briefly just how long it would be until he could take his husband home and get him out of that suit…

“You drank ryncol?” Kaidan hissed at him, clearly not prepared to let that one go.

Shepard shrugged, knowing it would only infuriate his husband more. “Yeah. But I survived,” he pointed out casually, causing Kaidan to swear fluently under his breath. 

Kaidan pulled him forward and kissed him, with an edge of desperation. “I know you never listen when I say this, but… don’t ever do that again.”

Shepard merely laughed, and kissed his husband right back.

 

“Tali. It’s… good to see you.”

Tali smiled, then remembered that Garrus couldn’t see her face. After living without her suit for the past year on Rannoch, she had gotten used to being able to use facial expressions. And the lack of them was surprisingly frustrating, given that she had lived most of her life that way. But here on earth, there was no way her immune system could cope, even with the advances the geth had been making.

“I hear you’ve been busy,” she said amiably. “You said the turians would promote you, but I never expected that you’d take a position on the Council. Not that you’re not qualified for the job!” she added hastily, not meaning to offend him. “I just meant that… well, I didn’t think you’d enjoy politics. But Admiral Koris speaks very highly of you.”

“The council has… had its moments,” Garrus said dryly. “But between Koris, Miranda and myself, we seem to be getting things done.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for pushing for a route to the Perseus Veil. The geth on Rannoch had already repaired the relay by the time we arrived. We were going to try repairing the relays through the Attican Traverse, but once we heard you were making a path through the Terminus Systems, we changed our plans. Our crews and yours met up in the Pylos Nebula.” 

“It was the least I could do,” Garrus said, sounding almost bashful. “And despite the way we left things, I… was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Tali’s eyes widened in surprise… and embarrassment. And for once, she was grateful he couldn’t see her face. “Oh,” she managed, dismayed to hear the utter lack of enthusiasm in her voice. “Oh,” she said again, because she couldn’t think of anything else. “Well, I…”

There was an awkward pause. 

“You’re seeing someone else,” Garrus concluded, and Tali sighed, letting her stance droop.

“Yes, I… I never expected the relays to be repaired so soon, and there was a quarian I met while we were building our first city… well, it’s not really a city, yet, it’s a small town, but it’s going to be a city…” Oh, help, she was babbling. But seemed strangely unable to stop. “And he was so nice to talk to, and then after a few months we were able to take our suits off, at least for short periods, and-“

“It’s okay,” Garrus interrupted, sparing her any further awkwardness. “I understand. And it’s okay. I’m happy for you. Really.”

Tali sighed in relief. “Well, thank you. It’s… he’s really nice. And I really like him.”

“I wish you all the best. Now… how about you join me for a drink? I hear the dextro wine they’re serving is some of the best in the galaxy…”

 

James fidgeted with the neck of his shirt. Wearing a suit wasn’t exactly an everyday experience for him, and despite getting one custom made – hell, with his physique, off-the-rack just didn’t cut it – he still felt like an imposter, pretending to be something he wasn’t. 

His gaze fell on Jack, wearing black pants and an elegant tunic that looked vaguely Japanese. She looked surprisingly comfortable in the outfit, and seemed to be having a civilised conversation with an asari he didn’t recognise. 

Two years on, and to everyone’s amazement – including his own, though he would never tell Jack that – they were still together. Jack had taken a position training biotics in the south of England. James was still with the Alliance, taking periodic assignments off world, but he still called Earth home. And while she was still as brash and crude as ever, Jack seemed… calmer. Like she had stopped expecting the world to collapse underneath her at any moment. And Eezo, her biotic varren, had quickly found a place in his heart. Though the beast did kick up a fuss every time it was kicked out of the bedroom so he and Jack could… you know. The sex was as hot as ever, but James had started to feel… unsettled. Like he wanted more. Or wanted it to be more permanent. 

But Jack… he didn’t get the feeling she was the settling down kind. He’d never dared ask her if she wanted kids, and she’d never mentioned it… And at some point in the future, he knew, he was going to have to stop skirting around anything that might piss her off, and just say what he was thinking. 

Yeah. 

Maybe another day.

“Looking pretty sharp there, James,” Joker said, pulling him out of this thoughts. 

James looked down at himself self-consciously, then tugged on his collar again. “It’s not so bad. So long as I don’t have to wear one every day.”

“Hey, when you get your own ship, it’s going to be dress uniforms, ceremonies, official functions… Better get used to it.”

“Hold on, I’m not there yet.”

“No, but XO of the SSV Hancock? It won’t be long now. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.” Joker looked off across the room, to where Shepard and Alenko were chatting to a turian diplomat… and were utterly unable to keep their hands off each other, Shepard’s arm around Alenko’s waist, Alenko lacing his finger’s through Shepard’s. “I never thought I would say this, but gosh darn it, they’re cute together.”

James snorted. “Better not let them hear you say that. I don’t think ‘cute’ and ‘marine’ are ever supposed to be in a sentence together.”

“And of course,” Joker added, “there’s still that tendency Shepard has. You know, for things to ‘explode around him’. So maybe not cute in a ‘bunnies and kittens’ kind of way. More like in a ‘thresher maw defending its nest’ kind of way.”

“…Right.” James figured it was best to just not ask. “So what exploded lately?”

“When Grunt arrived, a couple of days ago, he and Shepard went to a bar for drinks. It’s closed for repairs now. Oh, but hey, Cortez is here,” Joker went on, “and he’s _met someone_.” He pointed them out across the room, where Cortez was talking to a tall, thin man with a goatee. “He’s an engineer. Works in ship design. I think they met because of the Normandy. You know, the whole turian design thing?”

“He looks happy,” James noted, with a touch of relief. Cortez had taken Robert’s death hard… and though he’d seemed to recover well on board the Normandy, after the war ended, he’d seemed to sink into a mild depression. “About damn time he moved on.”

 

As the wedding guests watched Kaidan and Shepard climb into the shuttle and head off on their honeymoon, Liara sighed, a happy sound that none-the-less came out sounding rather wistful. She felt Garrus arrive at her side and glanced up at him, a knowing smile on her lips. 

“It’s about time,” she said succinctly. “After watching them go through so much together… and apart… it’s good to see them finally married.”

“I’m glad you could make it from Thessia.” Garrus snagged a wine glass from a passing waiter – checking that it was levo-amino as he did – and handed it to her. She took it gratefully. “How’s… business?” he asked pointedly, knowing she knew what he meant. There were far too many ears around to risk mentioning the Shadow Broker. 

“Busy,” she answered, keeping her voice low. “But difficult. I lost a lot of contacts at the end of the war, and rebuilding my network has been slow. But with communications still down across a lot of the galaxy, there are more people than ever willing to buy information. And the Shad… And a certain person has been making sizable donations to get the comm buoys up and running again. How are things with Tali?”

“Amicable,” he replied, earning an ‘oh really?’ expression from Liara. “We parted ways on good terms,” he filled in, “and now she’s… met someone.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“I’m happy for her.”

“Well, that’s good.”

The shuttle was almost out of sight now, and they turned to follow the remaining guests back inside. 

But as they reached the door, Garrus stopped and looked back, taking in the view of London. Many of the buildings had been repaired, but many more had not. There were still holes in the skyline, places where rubble had been piled, and never cleared away, dents in bridges and skyscrapers.

“We’ve still got a long way to go,” Garrus said, summing up the state of the entire galaxy. “But it’s progressing nicely.”

He turned, and went inside. 

“That it is,” Liara agreed. Then she followed him in.

 

_Italian Hotel  
1107 days since the reapers were destroyed_

John felt Kaidan’s mouth nibbling down his neck, and struggled with his cuff links. His shirt was unbuttoned, Kaidan’s hands exploring inside and causing him to be just a tad distracted. Which was no bad thing… except that it did mean his hands were still occupied trying to get his damned cuffs undone, instead of in more pleasurable pursuits. Like sampling all that wonderful golden skin and muscle.

Perhaps taking pity on him, perhaps just impatient for more, Kaidan pulled back and saw that he was struggling. 

“Need a hand with those?”

But instead of replying, John felt the sudden loss of Kaidan’s mouth most keenly, and, shirt still hanging off his shoulders and bunching around his wrists, he captured Kaidan’s face with one hand and proceeded to kiss him senseless.

He was rewarded with a husky moan and Kaidan’s hands gripping his hips, pressing him backwards towards the bed.

“Cuff links,” he complained briefly, and Kaidan moaned an acknowledgement. But instead of helping, he pushed John back onto the bed, hands and mouth immediately going to work on his torso, making John arch into his touch, panting.

“Kaidan,” he prompted again, and Kaidan finally pulled back, staring down at him with parted and swollen lips. He licked those lips, and the gesture alone caused another spike of heat to his groin.

“Cuff links,” Kaidan agreed, and set about freeing John from his shirt. None too soon, the fabric was tossed to the floor with a faint rustle. And then Kaidan sat back, straddling his thighs, just staring down at him.

Placed a hand over John’s heart, then ran it slowly down, brushing a nipple, down over wash-board muscles, and, knowing where it was headed, John felt another surge in his groin, thrusting his hips upwards. But Kaidan would not be rushed, and he lingered over John’s belt, teasing the skin just above it, taking his sweet fucking time undoing the buckle. He popped the button, then leaned down and kissed John just above his underwear. 

John laced his fingers into Kaidan’s hair and earned a smile of joy and delight and anticipation from his lover. And then Kaidan slid his hand downwards, and oh, SHIT, that felt good… John thrust up into his hand again, pressing his own hand over Kaidan’s to increase the pressure.

“Fuck…” Kaidan’s husky voice slid over him like velvet. “God damn, you’re sexy like that…”

Despite his insistent desire, John felt a laugh rising to bubble out of him. This was… perfect. He gazed down at Kaidan with hooded eyes and a crooked grin. 

“Then take your fucking pants off and get over here,” he ordered. But his eyes just about bulged out of his head when Kaidan stepped back… and ran a hand down his own abdomen to his belt. Licked his lips… slipped the buckle out slowly… Good god, he was doing a strip tease… John palmed his own erection, unable to help himself… then Kaidan popped the button and slowly… slowly… slid the zip down, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. He slid the pants slowly down over his hips… and damn the man for wearing underwear. Strong, muscular thighs where slowly revealed and somehow he managed to look sexy even as he worked the pants off from around his ankles.

Unable to stand it any more, John shoved his own pants and underwear down his legs and off, tossing them away onto the floor. And then Kaidan palmed himself through his underwear, and John wrapped his own hand around his cock, feeling it throbbing, moisture leaking from the tip… Kaidan’s eyes were fixed on John’s hand, his breath quick and uneven, and John chuckled. So his lover wasn’t as in control as he wanted him to think. And then Kaidan’s thumbs hooked into the top of his underwear and tugged them downwards… he turned around and revealed the most perfect ass in the galaxy to John’s gaze.

And that was quite enough. John sat up, then crawled forward, off the edge of the bed, until he was kneeling at Kaidan’s feet. Ran his hands up his legs, over firm thighs, to cup that ass in his hands, teeth offering the slightest nip as punishment for damn near driving John out of him mind with lust. 

Spun Kaidan around and slid his mouth down over his cock. The man’s body quivered in his hands and he let out a startled, lust-filled gasp, hands finding John’s head and stroking, not controlling him, but encouraging, worshiping skin and flesh and heat as his legs trembled… and then John reached down to stroke his own erection, and that was enough for Kaidan. 

He pulled John back and tugged him up, pushing him back onto the bed once again, his body coming down over John’s like a heated blanket, their erections rubbing against each other in a way that threatened to send them both over the edge. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Kaidan said, and John could only nod. Fumbled for the tube of lube on the nightstand and slicked his cock, wiping his fingers carelessly on the sheets, then tugged Kaidan to straddle him, panting for breath as he sat down over his cock, his tight ass swallowing it in slow measures, pumping deeper, Kaidan’s eyes closed in ecstasy, biting his lip…

“God… John…”

To think… he had once considered giving all this up…

He gripped Kaidan’s hips and guided him to rock over him, thrusting up, moans drawn from his throat as sparks of electric pleasure began shooting through him…

But then Kaidan pulled away… “Fuck, no…” John’s protest was lost in a hot, wet kiss, then Kaidan was tugging him up, kneeling on the bed, fingers clinging to the headboard as he turned his ass towards John. 

“This way,” he pleaded, hand stealing down to stroke his own cock, and John knelt up behind him, pressing into his hot, willing body again, hands on Kaidan’s hips, rocking him back and forth as John thrust. Panting for air, moaning in time with the snapping of his hips…

“John… fuck me… oh, fuck, yeah… god… AAAHHH!”

Kaidan tightened around him, shooting all over his own hand, John’s release pumping into his lover’s body, pulse after pulse, his body all but convulsing from the pleasure…

He pulled out, Kaidan sagging beneath him. Tilted sideways and collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily. Kaidan sank down, tipping over onto his side, his hand and groin wet with his own fluids. John reached for a towel, left on the nightstand for just that purpose, and tossed it to Kaidan. Watched as he cleaned up. Pulled him closer to kiss him, a thorough, sated merging of mouth and lips and tongue.

“God…”

“Exactly…” A deep, satisfied chuckle. 

“Fuck…”

John squirmed around, got his legs under the duvet. Tugged it up over Kaidan, then snuggled closer, head tucked against his shoulder. Kaidan reached out and hit the lights. Quiet breathing in the darkness. John pressed a kiss to Kaidan’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Always.”

 

**Epilogue**

_London Apartment  
3832 days since the reapers were destroyed_

John was up a ladder, banging a picture hook into the wall. The picture itself sat leaning against the wall – the group shot of the entire crew, taken during the infamous party in his citadel apartment. Glyph had kept a copy on file, and had been more than happy to replace the print that had originally hung in the apartment. And since he and Kaidan had finally moved into a place that was bigger than a shoebox, it was time to find the perfect spot to hang it.

Nail secure, Shepard climbed down and picked up the photograph, balancing it carefully against the ladder as he climbed, then settling it onto the hook.

Kaidan had come out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, and had stopped short, taking in the view of his shirtless husband up a ladder, muscles flexing as he adjusted the frame to get it level. God, even after ten years, the sight of this half-naked man still got his motor running.

Kaidan put his cup down on the coffee table, then, making sure John knew he was there, sidled up to the ladder. Ran his hand up the inside of John’s thigh, right up until he cupped his cock in his hand. Despite the warning, John jumped at the contact, and then again when Kaidan bit him on the ass, right through his jeans. The appendage in his hand twitched, then hardened.

“Say… when you’ve finished there,” Kaidan suggested casually, “I’ve thought of another chore that needs doing.”

“Is it urgent?” John asked, a teasing note in his voice, and Kaidan couldn’t help the grin that fixed itself to his face.

“Definitely urgent,” he agreed, feeling his own jeans get tighter. “Upstairs. In the bedroom,” he added, stepping back as John came down the ladder.

“Really?” John asked, sliding his hands up underneath Kaidan’s shirt. “Because I’ve been thinking there might be a problem with the sofa.” He backed Kaidan towards the aforementioned piece of furniture. “I don’t think it has enough back support. In the cushions. You know?”

The back of Kaidan’s knees hit the arm of the sofa, and he tumbled backwards, John following him down. 

“Well, in that case,” Kaidan said, opening his arms to receive his husband, “we should definitely test it out.”

The End


End file.
